July 30, 2007
Originally published March 2, 2002
I wish I could blame it all on this. [Ed. Article no longer exists.] But impotence is not a laughing matter to me, and I know exactly where mine came from. The surgeon who removed my prostate told me that I had about a 60-40 chance of complete recovery, including continence and potency after my operation. I no longer wet my pants the way I did for the first few months, but my sexual wherewithall remains dormant. I don't like that.
One of my musician friends observed that "You used up your quota a long time ago. You slept with more women in five years than most men do in a lifetime." Maybe so, but I intended to keep on truckin'. That's one of the big reasons my divorce hurts so badly. Yeah, my ex-wife was a real shit to me, and she picked exactly the right moment to abandon me and rip my guts out. But I really wouldn't mind running the streets again, looking for love in all the wrong places. I liked it a lot when I was a young man. But I am not that young man anymore. If I chased a woman and caught her, I wouldn't know what to do next. I've been through this once since my divorce, and I'm not certain I want to do it again. My semi-girlfriend grew weary of the sometimes platonic, or sometimes oral, or sometimes "fix-a-flat" injections that marked our relationship. I charmed her britches off, then couldn't follow through without the aid of a hypodermic needle, which isn't the most romantic thing in the world. She went off to find a normal lover.
I'm a nice guy, I'll play songs just for you, and I give a tremendous back-rub. If I only had my former wherewithall to match the rest of the package, I would be quite a catch. But I don't. And I don't know how I'm going to handle that for the rest of my life.
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