I was still so ignorant about sex at fifteen the “stork brought you” made as much sense to me as anything else. I could have won prizes jingle-brains.
I tried finding information at the library, the place where I go when something stumps me, but no luck. I mean I checked the card catalogs, even got up courage to ask the librarian.
I scanned Shakespeare, Hemingway, Faulkner, Voltaire, Tolstoy, you name it—nada. Lots of romantic lead-ups such as “made the earth move,” and all that, then the authors would chicken out and blah-blah—nothing no attempts at portraying physical intimacy which is what I wanted to know.
I read the above paragraph to my brother about my no-nothing ignorance, hoping for a laugh or maybe an enlightened observation, but what I got was, “How could any person able to tie their shoelaces be such a jug head.” Furthermore, it bored him. I could have read him the calendar and gotten the same response. He couldn’t stop repeating, “I never realized you were so dumb.
And yeah, yeah, in spite of Mom, I masturbated, but didn’t connect the two. So fellow reader retirees don’t despair if someone calls you stupid. There’s always someone more stupid. Me, for instance.
I would have liked to get some information about sex from the gutter, a helpful insight that handicapped me by Mom and my strict Mormon upbringing.
Finally, a kid down the street clued me in. Holy Mother of Josephats, I still can’t believe at my age of eighty-two my mother did it—I, and my sibs had to be artificially inseminated. Furthermore, parents in those days thought ignorance was bliss for females.
Considering all these limitations I’ll give the subject of sex my best shot.
is subject I became interested in checking out once again the old equipment, to see if it still worked. So far, so good, although like everything else in this decrepitude old carcass, sex is losing altitude—no trips into the clouds. Well, the cloud trips were usually psychological anyway and youthful passion has been replaced by cynicism—the only place to go now.
I’d like to check out someone else’s equipment, you know, give it the old college try, but caution gets in the way. Females do have an advantage in this quarter in that they don’t have to embarrass themselves, as they have the advantage of pretending.
Men don’t. Males can’t pretend, as their clunker is right out there in the open, and the sad fact is even with Viagra they may not (oh Hell probably won’t) get their aging parts to work like new—or even close to new. So looking at it from another viewpoint.
Immanuel Kant believed, “wasting semen is a waste of vital energy.” He said, “every sexual act is suicide…old single men generally keep the appearance of youth longer than married men…the waste that is coitus is one of the causes of man’s weakening.” From (Harpers, September 2010).
So as the media is talking so much on the subject of gays and gay marriage, let’s take a peek at gays. For heaven’s sakes let them get married.
In fact, I think we should encourage marriage. Let them get stuck with the problems of boredom and divorce. Why should heterosexuals be the only ones dealing with those headaches?
In addition to that, there’s a lot of domestic violence in marriage and it’s more pleasing to the ethically inclined, if the fights are somewhat of an even match—like a 200 pound male beating up a 100 pound female, does smack of bullying and it doesn’t seem fair, although I know a 100 pounder can be just as irritating as a 200 one. Nevertheless, I like the idea of fairness in aggression. So the nice part of a homosexual relationship, if one party hauls off and socks the other, the sockee can haul off and hit the socker back, hopefully a better blow. That’s a nice idea of sportsmanship in marriage. Bullying is so passé.
From the stuff you’ve been reading you’ve probably formed some idea that I’m gay. Well, you’re partly right. I wanted to go gay when I was twelve, but my cousin, who had the seniority of being thirteen said, “you’re supposed to like the opposite sex. So as it came from a higher authority I begin to pay attention to those silly opposite creatures.
Moreover I was just told to tell you, “Be nice to gays. They’re the only ones who will dance with old ladies at parties.”
And on to the biggie in the media—child molesters. I am also out of step on this subject. Don’t think they should get as long a sentence in prison as murderers, although most do. Can’t speak for others, but I know for myself, I’d rather have been molested, as a child, then murdered.
On the other hand I’m amused at the emphatic horror put on pediaphiles in the media, rather than murderers. Maybe because killing is so antiediluvian—been around before the Flood, yet child molestation—well, it seems a more modern trend. Looking back, I didn’t know one kid who’d been molested. Nor was I.
Of course, my scabby knees didn’t arouse any great lust amongst older men in the thirties, also kid attractiveness didn’t have a big play in those day. Kids were ciphers. So any old man stuff that I had during my childhood years—forget it.
Grown-ups weren’t much interested in kids— nobody ever heard of pediaphilia.
Heard on TV about a guy who posted on the Internet that he liked to look at little kids and he was arrested.
When I was young, strangers, not only looked at me, but picked me up, held me on their laps, tickled me, ruffled my hair and told my mom what a cute kid she had.
What little kids miss today.
There’s so much media attention to child molestation that mother’s are scared silly someone will touch their kid, so they keep their kids from playing outside and from getting attention from men—something that was invaluable to me.
Having my uncles and Daddy’s friends teasing and horsing around with me was one of the high points of my day. So are we raising a generation that will be fearful of strangers? And are we going overboard about child molestation as, when I was a kid, they went overboard about White Slavery?
Hey, this was supposed to be about sex at eighty and it’s become a political rant. Sorry!