I bet this sounds like a stupid question - especially coming from a man. However, NoStupidQuestions doesn’t allow NSFW topics, so here I am - bear with me.
I genuinely don’t know what this feels like from the inside. I see so many men go to extreme lengths to chase women - sometimes even risking their careers or relationships just to get laid. Some are literally willing to pay for it. I don’t get it. What does that pull actually feel like?
I’m not judging - I’m trying to understand. I only know what it looks like from the outside, but I have no idea what it’s like on the inside. I’ve had sex multiple times, and it’s fine, but it seems vastly overrated to me. Clearly, I’m not getting out of it what most other men are, so I’m trying to understand the baseline experience.
My motivation for asking is that I’m working on myself and hoping that, eventually, I’ll be able to feel even a fraction of that same pull. However, with things like lifting weights, I at least have a clear image in mind of what I’m working toward - but it’s harder to define that when it comes to subjective experiences.
You know when you’re talking to someone and they have maybe a crumb or flake on their face, and you can’t help but be drawn to watch it just in case it falls, but whether it does or doesn’t fall that wouldn’t impact you in any way? But it’s distracting anyway?
That’s all women’s chests. I’m not lecherous, I have a wife and female friends, I’m vigilant and keep it in check, but I’m compelled to check on them over and over. My wife’s, stranger’s, doesn’t matter. Even if I’ve seen my wife’s every day while she was changing for 11 years. What if they were to sway a certain way? What if there was a slight bounce and I missed it? What if the fabric became taut and revealed a line beneath. Or a shape. Perhaps a slight nub in the center? Was that there a second ago? Does that mean anything? I’d better check back to see if it changes again. The buttons on her blouse are slightly stretched, and if she moves just right I may be able to see a glimpse of skin. Not breast skin, goodness no, just any skin currently covered by the shirt. If I’m lucky it’ll have some shadow on it to imply shape. This dress has a dip in the front. I wonder if I could… It would never reveal anything. It wouldn’t. But what if it did. I can’t know unless I look. This shirt is slightly sheer in the light. What’s beneath?
The fabric stretched across her backside displays lines when she bends slightly forward. Now I know she’s wearing underwear. I mean, of course she is, everyone is… but now I know she is. And its shape. Her bum looks soft. Cushioned. If I were up against it I could really- No! No. But I could. And it would press against me. Stop it. And I could reach forward from behind, slide my hands up her sides and cup her- No! No Goddammit! They look like they’d be soft. In my hands.
The older woman in black’s shirt just slid slightly up above her waistline, revealing a sliver of skin. There was nothing unexpected or special about this skin. It wasn’t overtly attractive, but I saw it. It was covered and I saw it. Does she know I saw it? I’m glad I saw it.
The waitress in the tight shirt smiled at me. She’s younger than me, but not too young. Right? No. I mean, it’d be a little creepy, but not like… creepy creepy right? And maybe she’s into that? Probably not, it’s clearly all about tips. She’s a professional, she knows what she’s doing. Yeah she does… Besides, what could even happen. I’m getting dinner, with my wife, and she probably doesn’t even get off for hours. But… just statistically some younger women are into older guys right? And I’m not complete dogshit. It’s clearly about just being nice, it’s part of the service industry. Is it so unbelievable that any woman could find me attractive? Is that fucking impossible? No but- She smiled while looking into my eyes. That’s something right? No. It’s not, I was just passing the machine back to her after paying. Her lips look soft. Maybe no one’s ever kissed her well before. Like sure she’s probably had a lot of male interest, but they were probably all douchebags. They probably didn’t even care about her pleasure. I could. I mean I would. Like, if I weren’t here and she weren’t here and we met at a different time and place and things were casual, I think she’d be lucky for me to show her… What the fuck am I even…
When she turned to leave a thin line of her underwear flashed briefly above her yoga pants. Now I know they’re blue.
Well written this is exactly it, but it’s only half of it.
It’s even worse when I’m horny for someone specific and she’s not around. Too many days I’ve found myself unable to focus on anything, walking around in a living daydream where she is there. In front of me everywhere I look. Distracting me from whatever I’m trying to do. I can’t break out of it to be fully in the present
Wow, if there was any dount I was demi before you removed it
wow this is really good writing, answering such a complex question so thoroughly
When I say “I’m a pervert”, this is what I mean.
oh man the I need to look at the person and not stare there but also not avoid staring there. I always fail and pretty much end up moving from looking at the forehead and sorta above each shoulder. The really annoying thing is I know the woman can totally tell im trying to keep my gaze of them.
Ugh, same. Back when I was married both in spirit and law, there was a nice, well-endowed bartender at my local. I had no designs on anything at all, wanted to just have regular ol’ barfly-bartender platonic chatter. Here was my inner monologue:
Don’t stare at her boobs, don’t stare at her boobs, oh god I’m looking at her boobs, look UP you fucking creep she doesn’t need that shit; ok, maybe just identify all the liquor bottles behind her - THAT’S A FUCKING BOOB KNOCK IT OFF - k, Wisers, Captain Morgan’s, some coffee liqueur - wait, she said something. What did she say? Oh shit, she’s got the customer service scowl on and has covered herself. Congrats, Cracks, you are now officially one of the creepy guys, no better than the alkie dude who asks for hugs. God damn it - go play some pinball and go home.
Stupid lizard brain. Doesn’t happen all the time with every woman (thank fuck, that would be paralyzing), but awkward as fuck for everyone involved when it does.
Thing about tip jobs is that woman are much more likely to wear something low cut or whatnot. Work at least is almost the opposite were it was more a random choice made a particular day. Although that might make it worse like over time if the bartender is always wearing low cut things you might get used to it enough to ignore it. LOL. case in point dolly parton is on the telly atm and she is so recognizable I don’t feel I stare at her cleavage.
This exactly describes my relationship with women, AND food.
I am in a happy, loving, faithful relationship.
Morbid obesity is killing me.
This is the answer I was trying to put into words.