Dear Miz Fitz,
Ugh! New life, new problems; same guy, same asshole. I like this boy, but today he told me that all he cares about are boobs. Disgusting, I know. Then I wanted to be friends and go see a movie, but he said that we can't because his girlfriend wouldn't like it. I get it, she loves him and I respect that, but it's bullshit. He would never cheat. EVER. And I'm not that type of young lady.
I just… I can't help but feel like I am never going to find a boyfriend unless he's straight out of a book. Even then I think he wouldn't want me anyways.
Sigh. Miz Fitz feels your pain, but she prefers to be amusing rather than helpful. In this case, since the unworthy object of your misplaced affections is boob-obsessed, she recommends hormone therapy. For him, not for you.
Modern medicine is a marvelous thing. A couple of years of high-dosage estrogen and he can have boobs of his own to admire every morning in the privacy of his own boudoir.
Miz Fitz realizes that this does not solve your problem, but she can only do so much.