It’s Time to Ditch the Booth Babes


We need to ban the “booth babes.” It’s awkward. For me. Here I am wandering around, casting a lecherous gaze at this motorcycle or that coupe and I suddenly find myself making eye contact with an exploited model.

First of all, the muscles in my face aren’t developed enough to be able to configure themselves to telegraph a message of “I’m not lusting after you, pardon me for looking at you that way. I was lusting after that inanimate object six inches to your left.”

For the record, I don’t care whether booth babes are there or not. If they are, I will look briefly. I’m not a perv. I’m a fairly normal red blooded heterosexual male, after all.

But this guy saying, “I can’t help myself!” makes him sound like a complete asshole. “I have no control over where my eyeballs go.” What kind of walleyed asshat is this guy that he can’t even look around a booth babe?

He calls himself a “business journalist working in New York”. New Yorkers are famous for their skills at looking the other way and minding their own business. Yet this guy somehow loses all control over his occipital muscles whenever a pretty girl wanders into his field of view? If that were true, he’d have been hit by a bus crossing the street years ago.

And why is he blaming the booth babes for “distracting” him or making him feel awkward? Man up and take responsibility for yourself and your actions.

Don’t get me wrong. I understand all the concerns about booth babes and the objectification of women. But this guy’s attitude of “blame the victim” is bullshit.

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