You're married, not dead...

She Ain't Pretty, She Just Looks That Way....
--The Northern Pikes


I've probably heard it, or a variant of it, fifty times since I exchanged vows with my wife. And it's yet another in a seemingly neverending series of things that I'll never quite understand.
It's spoken in a tone of patient exasperation mixed with incredulous wonder: the kind of tone you'd expect to hear directed at a moronic extraterrestrial. You'd think I'd be used to that tone by now. Unfortunately, it's another in a seemingly neverending series of things I'll never get used to.
There are an awful lot of men in this world who get a rise, figurative and literal, out of looking at pretty women. Which is all well and good and to be expected, I suppose. But they always have to spread the cheer. "Would you look at that?" "Check out the tits on her!" "Whew, don't you want to take her home and give her a tour of the ceiling?"
Well, I didn't see her, wasn't looking for her, and certainly have no interest in bedding her.
Here it comes, all together now: "YOU'RE MARRIED, NOT DEAD!"
I used to have an urge to lay it at the feet of my absentmindedness. Sorry, Alpha Male, I'm just generally fogbound; my inattentiveness shouldn't count against my masculinity. Please, forgive me. Let's go drink beer and then shoot the cans, okay?
I am occasionally a tad...um, dazed. I can't deny that. But it's been a long time since I've failed to notice something in my environment that was really of concern. About four years, actually: the last time was...well, I had just used a doubled-over tea towel as an oven glove. A pleasant odor came into the room right about then, one of those childhood odors you associate with...
"Hmm, it smells like a campfire in here", I said, not noticing the flaming tea towel I was holding at my side. Hey, it was well beyond the arc of my peripheral vision, okay?
Yeah. That incident reformed me a little...I made a mental note to myself: Ken, I said, you must remember that kitchens are places where, on occasion, dangerous things can happen. You might want to, I don't know, rachet up the attention a few notches.
A strange woman walking past me, pretty or not, isn't something my brain will likely classify as a potential threat. So I'm unlikely to notice her on that account.
What other reasons do I have for deeming something or someone worthy of notice? Quite frankly, very few. Unless our hypothetical sexpot actually speaks to me, I'll probably fade her into the background, where, ostensibly, she belongs. She's intent on her own business, I'm intent on mine.. Within ten seconds--if not sooner--she'll have disappeared from sight and memory entirely.
I've had people question my sexuality because of this. I have several things to say to such people: one, my wife has never had reason to think I am gay; two, neither have any of my prior girlfriends; three, neither have I. I don't notice men any more than I notice women.
To allay your silly fears, yes, I have tested myself. I read in some study somewhere that the human brain can gauge attractiveness very, very quickly: in a matter of several hundredths of a second. And it's true. If I choose to, I can look at a woman and come to an instant judgement of her appearance. And some of them are, not to put to fine a point on it, but, whew, nice looking.
So what?
I've met some very attractive women who knew how very attractive they were, and talked of little else. Instant turn-off. I've met other attractive women who were--sorry, ladies--right bitches. Instant turn-off. And I've met quite a number of really attractive women who were, ahem, also really stupid...either immature stupid or just plain dumb as dirt stupid. Again, instant turn-off. Nothing against the stupid...they're just not for me.
Those three (snottiness, bitchiness, stupidity) blot out any superficial lusty thoughts utterly and completely. There are other turn-offs, not as total, but still likely to strangle attraction fairly quickly. Rampant materialism. A lack of empathy. No sense of humour. The phrase "born again". A cigarette. (The only flaw in Eva's ointment, until she successfully quit the habit.)
Still, a man can look, can't he?
Sure, why not. It won't tell you much, though. Ever heard the old saw about judging a book by its cover?

Since I got married, I've actually felt an attraction to two women. I work with both of them. One of them is even conventionally pretty, which is to say that several other guys hover around her like flies. I have a decade on her, so I guess she's the Pretty Young Thing everybody warns against.
The other woman has a decade on me, and what a shock it was to find that out. She's quite different from her younger counterpart, but the three things they share are an easygoing nature, an infectious laugh, and a few smarts.

The thing those three things have in common is: they can't be assumed from looks alone.

One of the best things about marriage, for me, is that I am finally secure enough in a relationship to admit casual attractions. There was a time I thought them signs of deficiency in my relaitionship...later,. I came to regard them as nuisances. And now I see aspects of Eva in all the best qualities of anyone pretty, intelligent, and compassionate enough to gain my attention. (Awww, mush.)

The difference between me and other men, married or no, seems to be that I don't actively seek lust out. And why should I? I AM married and I've never felt so gloriously alive.