Let’s face it, we men are obsessed with women’s bodies, and yet if I needed to tell someone the size of her breasts, the best I could probably muster would be “just about right,” and if she were to ask me right now what her dress size was, I would probably mutter that it didn’t make her bum look big at all.

This is partly due to my ever-present attempt to gain brownie points and not spend the night sleeping in the kitchen with the dog, but it is in one significant interest due to my ignorance.

Ask her what size my waist is, and she can tell you without hesitation.

It isn’t that difficult to find out this information either, and the list of instructions on how to find out would consist solely of the following:

1 – Open the cupboard door.
2 – Remove the appropriate garment.
3 – Check the label and make a mental note of the size.

Even my brain could cope with that first thing in the morning, but despite telling myself, I should do it, I never actually remember to.

This could partially be because there is something instilled in the back of my brain that tells me the second I remove her bra and start ferreting around inside it, her mother is bound to burst down the front door unannounced and catch me in the act of apparently sniffing, or worse still putting on her beloved daughter’s bra.

I don’t want to find myself in this situation, but if I want to please her (my partner, not her mother), then I should do it. Every man should do it. Go to your wife or girlfriend’s closet and find out her bra size. Write it on paper and secrete it in your wallet if necessary.

Of course, even once I know the size of her bra, that doesn’t make the actual selection more accessible.

As a general rule of thumb, I’m led to believe that a black latex nurse’s outfit is not considered lingerie or comfortable, so I will try to steer clear of that as far as possible, no matter how appealing they look. I will try my utmost to ensure that whatever I buy will not only please me but will make my partner feel sexy as well.

This should imply that she will be able to move comfortably and that bits don’t poke out when she lifts an arm or tries to
sit down, or more importantly, lie down.

Visiting any shop with lingerie is bound to be a big deal the first time I try it, but I’m a grown man, and I should be able to cope. The sales assistant probably won’t think that the stuff I buy is for me unless I say something embarrassingly stupid and wear fake breasts.

There’s a very good chance she’s dealt with people like me and people like you fairly regularly. You know, the kind of person who skulks around by the knickers looking around shiftily and sweating a lot. Come to think of it, it’s probably best if I don’t do that and head straight over to her instead. She will likely be accommodating.

I saw a sign in a lingerie shop that I passed three times the other day, and it said they would gift wrap the item.

I decided there and then that if I ever built up the courage to go in the shop and buy any lingerie instead of walking past it, I would take advantage of that offer. Being confronted by me carrying a Christmas cracker-wrapped present and a proud smile like your son or daughter gets the first time they pee on their own would probably detract from the overall romanticism of the gesture. Besides, I wouldn’t have to carry it home so that others could see what I’d bought.

I can’t wait to finally see her wearing the new lingerie I bought.

The only thing left to do now is finding the size and buy something appropriate, not a latex nurse’s outfit.