Where'd you get those assets?...

For some reason, people have been checking out my ass.

Not that I mind. In the grand scheme of things, I'm usually hard up for compliments. Though I don't know why, I'm the type of guy who rarely gets boys seductively batting eyes at him, or the up-and-down eye scan on the street.

And to be honest, I'm not sure if they're looking at my ass...or just my jeans.

A few months ago when meeting up with a friend-of-a-friend I was wearing my favourite pair of jeans. Twenty paces down the street later, he asked, "Oh, where'd you get your Sevens?"

Not being a label whore, but being one who likes nice things, I wasn't surprised that he appreciated them. What threw me off was the notion that he had to ask where I'd bought them...jeez, they're jeans!

I took the compliment and enjoyed the microsecond of attention. Then I had my ass grabbed at a bar...now that I think of it, I should rename them my Lucky Sevens.

Even so, I have a hard time taking a compliment such as an ass grab standing at a bar as being genuine. I mean, I'm suspicious of homosexuals; we're all over-sexed creatures that are more often than not sexually liberated. There's nothing wrong with showing your interest and appreciation of someone via an affecitonate touch.

I'm just often skeptical that it's ever genuine. Sure, you might grab my ass, but how many others have you felt up that night? Is this attention directed at me because you genuinely want me or because you just like touching boys in general?

Recently, I had yet another comment on my jeans. After I had promptly removed them and tossed them on my bedroom floor, and began attending to other business, the guy blurts out, "Oh nice Sevens, where'd you get them?"

I almost choked...

...and then answered his question.

How strange though! Why the homo-significance of certain brand jeans, and who the hell really cares where you bought them?

But it begs a chicken-and-egg type question: Are they noticing my jeans because of my ass, or do they check out my ass because they like my jeans?

Yet another evening, standing in his kitchen, rehydrating after a workout, I caught him gazing at my ass.

"What kind of jeans are those?" he asked, gulping water from his glass and checking his watch.

I know I looked puzzled, but I replied anyway. "Oh, these are Lucky's."

"Well, they got you lucky tonight," he said with a smile.

They did indeed, but since when were guys more concerned with the jeans themselves rather than what's underneath the denim?...