I checked "I am occasionally reminded/affected about it" because that's the closest in meaning to "I'm not bothered by it and, to some extent, it turns me on."
My wife and I were "best friends" for five years before finally getting married. I knew all her boyfriends during this period and, in a couple instances, before. One guy, Kevin, was still friends with her when we first met. They'd gone together sometime before. Kevin was easily the best-looking guy I've ever met who wasn't effeminate. He looked like a model from GQ, Calvin Klein or Abercrombie & Fitch. Never a hair out of place, never a wrinkle, colors bright and crisp. His teeth were impossibly white. They sparkled, Women wold die for his eye lashes. I'd swear he never had a zit in his life. And, to add to everything else, he came from a rich family. His mother's place looked like Mar-a-Lago West. My wife once told me he had a small, very thin cock with an enormous head. She claimed it looked just like a lollipop. This amused her no end. She couldn't stop giggling when describing it. Every time I saw him thereafter, I couldn't get that image out of my mind. I couldn't help checking out his crotch. As far as I know, he was the only guy she went with who wasn't well hung.
She lived for two-and-a-half years with a guy called Don. He was good-looking: a leaner, more wiry version of myself. Like me he had chest hair which poked through the collar of his shirt, though it was lighter brown vs my almost black brown. She and Don, and whomever I was going with, often double-dated. According to her, Don was fantastic in bed and had a "big cock". He was about the same size as her 7.5" x 5.75" dildo. Don was the nicest guy I've ever met. When they broke up, I thought she was so stupid I cried, hell, if she didn't want him, I'd marry him!
James, her next boyfriend, was a good deal younger than she. Just out of high school (but legal). Blond preppy looks. They were together for eight months. He was extremely obnoxious towards me; so much so, she and I didn't talk for over a year. He obviously how close we were. Apparently for a young punk, he was well-endowed: shorter than Don but very thick. . . painfully thick. Sex was torture for the first few minutes, and she was usually sore the next day. One day his parents descended and, poof! he was gone. It turns out he had a trust fund from his grandmother. He'd fed the trustee a line of bull about needing expenses for college and had run through a bundle trying to impress my (future) wife. He'd said he was from a wealthy family.
Anyway, I know all about her ex-boyfriends, including those of shorter duration. It doesn't bother me. She chose me, after all. We finally realized we were nuts about each other and were only making ourselves and everyone else miserable going on like that, so decided the only solution was marriage. Her having had previous men doesn't bother me in the least. In fact, to tell the truth, I get turned on knowing she's had other men before. You could call it vicarious cuckolding!
