"Socially Acceptable"--Seinfeld
Kink Bingo fill for Silk Velvet Feathers Fur. (But really just Velvet.)
If it were socially acceptable, George Costanza would drape himself in velvet. Possibly some one-sided Jerry/George. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Sometimes with Jerry it's hard to tell if either of them really means what he's saying, but George really would drape himself in velvet. If it were socially acceptable.
Being socially acceptable matters because George knows he's a mess. Bald. Glasses. Stocky--which is just a slightly better way of saying short and fat. Frequently unemployed--to say that he has a career is more of a blatant lie than George is comfortable telling himself, although if it'll help him with other people...(hey, lying to your girlfriend is not all that different from lying on your resume.) Getting to that age where if you've never been married there must be something wrong with you.
Jerry's the longest relationship George has had (although for God's sake he wishes Elaine wouldn't put it that way; people might get the wrong idea), and Jerry is obsessed with being socially acceptable. The fear of being accused of some minor faux pas is enough to keep Jerry up at night, and Jerry doesn't own any shoes that aren't sneakers.
If Jerry would like to dress in velvet and slowly run his hands over his velvet-covered knees or maybe slide them up his velvet-covered chest, he'd never admit it. At least not in a way that would make anybody take him seriously.
Not that George thinks about Jerry like that. Because he doesn't. He wouldn't. Can't a man just assume that, if one loves the feel of velvet, one would want to touch it? Caress it even? There is nothing wrong with liking a fabric and assuming--just assuming, totally hypothetically--that one would appreciate a fabric in a certain way.
The velvet thing isn't even a sex thing. Well, it probably isn't.
All right, it is, but it's not like he...uses it. For certain...activities. George is no longer master of his domain, but velvet does not come into it. But, really, who's to say it shouldn't? Is there some fabric police out there making sure nobody...pleasures themselves with velvet? George doesn't, but who's to say he shouldn't appreciate the feel of thick, soft velvet under the fingers of his left hand or maybe held against his face? Velvet at least has a certain je ne sais quoi that other fabrics lack. Cotton? Commonplace. Cheap. Nylon? George can take it or leave it. Leather? There's something suspicious about a whole bunch of leather, but what could be wrong with intimately appreciating velvet?
He wants to bring it up, but he just can't. "And that's what gets you off," Jerry might say, and then he'll go into a bit. It's be about the bit, and he won't listen when George says he doesn't know, and it is okay to want to find out?
Not that he needs Jerry's approval. Jerry Seinfeld's opinion is the last thing on George's mind when he jerks off. Well, he hopes it is. It should be.
If it were socially acceptable, George Costanza would drape himself in velvet. Possibly some one-sided Jerry/George. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Sometimes with Jerry it's hard to tell if either of them really means what he's saying, but George really would drape himself in velvet. If it were socially acceptable.
Being socially acceptable matters because George knows he's a mess. Bald. Glasses. Stocky--which is just a slightly better way of saying short and fat. Frequently unemployed--to say that he has a career is more of a blatant lie than George is comfortable telling himself, although if it'll help him with other people...(hey, lying to your girlfriend is not all that different from lying on your resume.) Getting to that age where if you've never been married there must be something wrong with you.
Jerry's the longest relationship George has had (although for God's sake he wishes Elaine wouldn't put it that way; people might get the wrong idea), and Jerry is obsessed with being socially acceptable. The fear of being accused of some minor faux pas is enough to keep Jerry up at night, and Jerry doesn't own any shoes that aren't sneakers.
If Jerry would like to dress in velvet and slowly run his hands over his velvet-covered knees or maybe slide them up his velvet-covered chest, he'd never admit it. At least not in a way that would make anybody take him seriously.
Not that George thinks about Jerry like that. Because he doesn't. He wouldn't. Can't a man just assume that, if one loves the feel of velvet, one would want to touch it? Caress it even? There is nothing wrong with liking a fabric and assuming--just assuming, totally hypothetically--that one would appreciate a fabric in a certain way.
The velvet thing isn't even a sex thing. Well, it probably isn't.
All right, it is, but it's not like he...uses it. For certain...activities. George is no longer master of his domain, but velvet does not come into it. But, really, who's to say it shouldn't? Is there some fabric police out there making sure nobody...pleasures themselves with velvet? George doesn't, but who's to say he shouldn't appreciate the feel of thick, soft velvet under the fingers of his left hand or maybe held against his face? Velvet at least has a certain je ne sais quoi that other fabrics lack. Cotton? Commonplace. Cheap. Nylon? George can take it or leave it. Leather? There's something suspicious about a whole bunch of leather, but what could be wrong with intimately appreciating velvet?
He wants to bring it up, but he just can't. "And that's what gets you off," Jerry might say, and then he'll go into a bit. It's be about the bit, and he won't listen when George says he doesn't know, and it is okay to want to find out?
Not that he needs Jerry's approval. Jerry Seinfeld's opinion is the last thing on George's mind when he jerks off. Well, he hopes it is. It should be.