It was the shirt!

DISCLAIMER
For those of you who think I'm a nice guy who can do no wrong, (there must be at least a few of you, right?) this may not be a post you'll want to read.  You see, there are certain things I've done (like this for instance) that I'm not proud of.  The following is one of those things, and if I could jump into the TARDIS and take it all back I would.
Ready?  Okay, here we go...

This all happened back in the days of high school when dinosaurs roamed the earth.  An old friend unexpectedly showed up at school one day, so I stuck around to chat a little while.  As it turned out, she was also friends with a girl who was dating an acquaintance of mine, who we will call Mr. H.  (I hesitate to say friend, because I don't think he ever really liked me much, but never mind that)  Anyway, we all chatted a while, and things were basically normal.  Then, bad things happened.
I should point out here, that Mr. H's girlfriend was...let's say she had an ample frame.  As such, her chest area was fairly large.  I would also like to point out that I was not attracted to this girl, and what followed was all just one big misunderstanding.
Anyway, Mr. H's girl was talking about someone I used to know.  She was something of a chatty type, and for some reason I found it mildly annoying.  So, in a rather jerkish move, I payed less and less attention as she went on, sometimes adding an 'mmhmm' to look like I was paying attention.  Then, my eyes started to drift, and it all went pear shaped, as the Brits say.
"So he doesn't really hang out with us anymore, and if you look at my breasts again, I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!"
This seamless transition shocked me into paying attention again.  Yes friends, I was caught looking.  Then, implementing a strategy worthy of Napoleon himself, I opened up my mouth and made matters worse by panicking and totally denying it.  This was where Mr. H got mad and told me I should probably leave, which I did.
Essentially, this is where the story ends, but I would like to present some further evidence, so you may judge for yourselves if I was truly a jerk or not.
I present to you, the jury, Exhibit A:  The shirt.  The girl I inadvertently eyeballed was wearing a tie-dyed shirt.  Normally, this type of shirt wouldn't pose a problem, but it seems that this particular shirt was designed to trap unwitting males such as myself.  Those brightly coloured rings were pretty much centered directly between her cleavage, or radiating out from her nipples like some sort of evil hypnotic sex-ray.  (this probably makes no sense at all, but if it does, feel free to use that for your own purposes)  In brief, this shirt design was nearly impossible not to look at, in lust or otherwise.  It honestly was the shirt I was looking at.  If her bosom happened to be underneath the area I was looking at, I can hardly be blamed for that, now can I?
Luckily for me, I got off pretty easy from the whole affair.  I never saw that girl again, and the event was not spoken of again.  A few months later Mr. H broke up with her, to the best of my knowledge.
So, that's my story of how my male brain sabotaged me once.  May it never get me into trouble again.  I hope none of you think any less of me now.