What would make one tell one’s husband: “I love you and all, but if Bobby or Heinz would ever want to “push their shoes under my bed, I will let them . . . ”
Do you do it because there’s no chance in hell of that happening ever? Because you fantasize about it? Because you slobber on every magazine that even have the tiniest photo of a celebrity you fancy and don’t mind whoever sees it?
Have you ever thought about how it makes your husband feel?
And for the same token, the other side of the coin: a husband raving about another woman’s legs/boobs/ass.
Do we realize how it makes other people feel? How it gnaws into their soul?
I guess not.