ABSTRACT
What is a breast man? Who is he? What makes him so crazy about breasts? These questions seemed important to me because, I reasoned, breast men ought to embody a concentrated form of society's breast fetish. If I could understand the breast man, I might grasp the key to the cultural obsession. I started with the cliches I had heard: that breast men are rough, tough cream puffs, that they are primitives, and that they are insensitive clods. The stereotypes, of course, proved to be untrue. The search for the elusive breast man took me down some fascinating and surprising paths.
