I went to an event this evening and the hostess was wearing a lovely dress which showed off a bit of cleavage.
One of her good friends (and a hell of a nice guy) apologized to her for his inability to keep his eyes up at her eye level. She nodded graciously and replied that it was ok. She suggested that a lifetime of being a female had inoculated her against being offended by the semi-frequent eye-bob that men generally tend to do.
I contemplated this conversation.
My first thought was, "They know?"
I can't speak for all men, but I think I'm pretty damn good at booby sneak peeks. I try to do them when the boob-possessor isn't looking, and I keep my glances to an ephemeral little peek. I've been a breast aficionado now for more than 25 years, so I've had a lot of time to hone my skills. I'm no longer the open-mouthed gaping teenager who was stunned by his first vision of looking down a girl's shirt.
My second thought was "Do they know how hard we try NOT to look?"
I'm not sneaking peeks because it's a hobby of mine, it's because I can't not look. It's like an addiction. I mean, BREASTS! Have you seen those things? They're fantastic. If you are a woman who is showing the merest hint of cleavage and I am not looking at your breasts, it is because of the following monologue going on in my brain: "Don't look. Don't look. Jesus, do not look at her breasts. I wonder if they still look like they looked five minutes ago? Oh, man, I bet they're better. Oh, crap. Don't look. Don't look. Don'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlook." It's a constant battle.
That being said, I have two points to make:
1) If some woman that I know is reading this (including tonight's hostess, but not including Hank), I never look at YOUR breasts. I'm talking about everyone else's.
2) Don't start hiding your breasts. Just because I might want to lose a few pounds doesn't mean that I want chocolate chip cookies eradicated from the planet. Similarly, just because I might be trying to not look at your breasts, doesn't mean that I don't want to be aware of them.