The thing with seeing foids in public is that I'm so far removed from them bodily that they don't really excite me from a distance. If I get right up close to one and begin to truly notice it, it's a different story. You start to imagine your hands running across its delicate skin, its tight but soft flesh yielding beneath the searching press of your fingers. Its mouth peels open in humid delight, its warm breath collecting in a film on your cheek. And further. These thoughts assert themselves on your consciousness and hammer against your glacial being like icepicks. You forget that these are actually warm bodies that, in another life, could be held and stroked by you. It's an unpleasant intrusion of the outside world into your mind, one that immediately casts to the wind the autonomic repression of your sex drive that keeps you from going mad every time you step out the door. I saw this slutty noodlewhore the other day whose silken, full tits, barely sheathed by an oversized bra and rising and falling as she drew breath, were clearly visible from the side. Terrible time. Usually they just look like mannequins.