There’s this addiction I’m battling with. I’ve lost relationships because of it. I’ve lost favor with the organization I work with because of this addiction, and I had to resign from my first place of work because of this same issue. The women there weren’t comfortable with my presence.

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I was talking to our HR when she said, “Kofi, when I’m talking to you, look at my face.” I looked at her face, but a few seconds later, she was reminding me again to look at her face. She said, “Do you know that’s disrespectful? It paints you in a very bad light.”

I apologized for my actions and told her it wasn’t intentional. She told me to work toward making things right because a lot of the ladies were talking about it.

But the truth is, I don’t even realize I’m doing it. We start talking, and the next few seconds, my eyes start traveling down to the cleavage to see what’s there. Women talk to me, and moments later, they’re pulling up their dresses. Those I’m close with will say, “What’s at my chest that you can’t stop watching? Look at my face.”

I’m often embarrassed. I tell myself I’ll stop. I make an effort, but once the cleavage is low-cut and a little flesh is showing, count my eyes there.

I don’t wear glasses, but these days I wear dark sunglasses so you won’t see where my eyes are directed. I fight silent battles behind those lenses, trying not to look—but if I do, at least you won’t catch me and scold me for it.

I’m looking for a remedy. Self-discipline is failing. Being intentional hasn’t worked. Talking myself out of it only makes it worse. But it’s also embarrassing when a woman catches me staring and gets so uncomfortable that she adjusts her dress or snaps, “Look at my face when talking to me.”

I Was Fine Until I Was Alone In My Room

Is there a way out of this? Or it’s because I didn’t suck breast milk as a baby? Yes, that’s true. My mom told me her body didn’t produce enough milk, so I had to rely on formula. Could that be the reason?

—Kaleb

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