I could see his nipples.
That was all I could think about. The fact that I could see his nipples where his shirt was gaping between the buttons. His shirt that was too tight, proven by the fact that I wasn’t just able to see his nipples through that gaping hole but also through the shirt itself. Small hillocks that peeped out through his shirt as if to say, “Hello! I’m in here!”
It’s not that he was an unpleasant/ugly/unattractive guy. He was in fact lovely, a great conversationalist, friendly, amiable and I’m sure his nipples were friendly fellows as well. But I didn’t want to see them. They were being forced on me by this too-tight shirt. They were coercing me to simultaneously look and look away in a way that made me feel uncomfortable.