Every Time I Think About Sex I Get Vexed

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Hold on. This wasn’t how I envisioned this would be. I mean, in the movies the music is right, the girl is patiently anticipating the love, and the guy is mentally psyching himself up for what is supposed to be the most life-altering, man-producing moment of his life. But that did not happen. Not even close.

The stupid cassette tape was skipping, so Baby Face’s I only think of you came out as I only tink on you. Really romantic song, eh? I only fart on you on two occasions… just great.

This magic moment wasn’t magical at all. Fine, she was in her element as an older seasoned woman who was body-aware and confident and in control. Me, not so much. I had laboured breathing, sweaty palms, and a severe case of hebetude thwarted my cool mojo, as it were. My first time was a flop of epic proportions.

Oh well, there’s a reason it’s called the first, not that I was already looking forward to my second, but I knew there was at least a mulligan to come, and it could only get better from here, right?