So you’ve got huge jugs. I see them, my kids see them, everybody around you sees them. They’re so big that you can’t even see over them.
The problem is that my wife sees them, too. They are like the proverbial “pink elephant in the room,” except that they aren’t proverbial, there are two of them, and if your cavernous cleavage is any indication, they aren’t actually pink.
I will be ignorning them. My wife has decided that.
So let’s say you are our waitress. You’re carrying our dinner high above your head on that server-tray thingy. All that my wife and I see coming toward us is your two big jugs. You reach across the end our table to set down my buddy’s lobster dinner. Naturally, I’m sitting on the outside and one of your huge jugs almost knocks my beer over. I have to catch it and I nearly touch one of them. My wife looks over to me to make sure that I did not notice your huge jugs. I don’t look at them, or smile, or laugh. I am deadpan. She confirms what we both already knew. I didn’t see them. What jugs? Nope, nobody has jugs here. Especially not you.
My biggest complaint about pretending not to see your huge jugs is that your huge jugs have altered reality for my wife and I. Her ability to detect big jugs coming towards me has been heightened while I am literally blinded by your huge jugs.
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so, are you upset at big jugs or your wife?
I don’t expect your wife to be HAPPY about seeing you look at a woman’s breasts, but your partner (til death do you part) should understand you enough to know that you’re a man and find breasts highly attractive.
A man’s genetic wiring instructs him to find large full breasts (real or fake) an attractive sign of fertility on a woman.
If your waiter was male, in a pair of tight boxer briefs with enormously large testicles and a python-like schlong coiled inside his cotton cod-piece, I imagine your wife (and any other heterosexual woman) would chance a glance.
On the other hand, you’re being a gentleman and showing your wife a great deal of respect by doing your best to ignore those delicious meat curtains. But don’t castrate yourself to uphold your wife’s polluted version of a married man’s sex drive. Western civilization has screwed our minds by making breasts acceptable to be teasingly displayed and making it rude for men to ogle them. Fight the power, my brother.