Dear Mooi presents ...
The 7 Ages of Manhood
by L.T. Goto(reproduced here on kind permission from The Yolk magazine)
When William Shakespeare wrote about the seven ages of man - you know, All the world's a When William Shakespeare wrote about the seven ages of man - you know, All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players (As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 7) - he spoke of how humans are like actors, each playing a part in one of seven acts. Though this is one of Shakespeare's most famous passages, I highly doubt that he was referring to the ages of manhood. You see, I'm only 30, and I've already reached my seventh age.
If you haven't yet caught on to what I'm sadly alluding to, then I might as well go ahead and say it: My peenie is in decline.
Now this really doesn't amuse me. It's a serious matter. I mean, we're talking the decline of manhood as it pertains to my sex life. I'm on a downward climb into the libidinal abyss. I'm actually beginning to think with my brain.
If you think about it, man is truly something to laugh at, a comedic act without the need for a warm-up. All of his life, he is thinking about gettin' some, but when he finally learns what it takes in the way of confidence to actually get some, it's too late. The odometer has turned over. Time to throw in the towel. Time to purchase some Chinese herbs. OK, I'm not that bad yet. I think I've still got a few good years left. But my peak has definitely passed. It's a strange thing about peaks. You keep going up and up and up, but you don't realize you're at your peak until it's too late. You're on your way down before you know it, and once you know it, you can't stop it. Why didn't someone warn me? You could've at least given me one last night of peakdom. So, Mr. Shakespeare, I now present my seven ages of man. Or manhood, if you prefer.
1. Hey, what's this?!
There's a time in every young boy's life when he discovers that the greatest toy in the world is not one you write a letter to Santa about. It requires no batteries, has no pull strings and is waterproof so you can play with it in the tub. The only thing is it doesn't glow in the dark. But most likely, that won't be a problem. This is one toy young boys never misplace. Countless hours of amusement with unusual moving parts. You almost wish you could put wheels on it, or wings. Paint it with red or green model paint and bring it to show `n' tell. Careful, though, not to get soap in it. If that happens, you'll wish you never had one to begin with.
2. Whoa, what happened?!
Oh, geez. What the heck just happened?! I was happily dreaming of Ginger from Gilligan's Island and - bam! - I have to change my underwear! What was that feeling? It was kind of uncomfortable. I feel kind of...dizzy. Somewhat faint. Actually, it felt kind of good. But what is this gobbledygook that came with it? Should I ask mom? No, that doesn't seem like a good idea. OK, maybe I'll just lie here. Boy, my underwear feels wet. Does anybody have a cigarette?
3. The first time.
My first time came pretty late, relatively speaking. Today, boys and girls are making babies at the age I had my first wet dream. I didn't even know girls had vaginas, much less what to do with them, back then. Sex-ed taught us the birds and the bees, but that only explained the basics of creation. What the heck does gestation period have to do with me
wanting to get into my girlfriend Susie's pants? Why do I have these feelings? And how do I get into Susie's pants? Why can't she just invite me over, then invite me in? If only she could just tell me what to do and where to put it.
My first time with Susie was the best. Well, for me, that is. It didn't take very long before it was over. Forget how many minutes, the seconds are what mattered. Maybe 20 of them. I barely got the condom on before I got that dizzy feeling again. But five minutes later, and I had my second time. Then 10 minutes later, I had my third time. Still, 20 seconds is about how long it took before I get that dizzy feeling again. Well, as they say, practice makes perfect. And we're not exactly talking about something tedious like piano practice, are we? Yes, practice definitely makes perfect. For some reason, Susie doesn't like to practice as much as I do.
5. Can't get it up.
Boy, was I drunk! Or was it the Sudafeds? Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Too much on my mind? It was the first time I couldn't get it up. I tried coaxing it, stroking it. I even made it a few promises. Still, no go. It was dead. Even those electric pads they use in the emergency room wouldn't have revived it.
Was I impotent? The mere mention of the word "impotent" makes me feel impotent. Who came up with this word? Does the word "frigid" make women feel frigid? That's too much power for one word. I remember this joke. This black guy (OK, this is an ethnic joke) is decked out in a suit and tie. Someone asks him, "Why are you so dressed up?" He says, "I went to the doctor and he says I was impoh-tent. So I wanted to look impoh-tent."
Somehow, being impotent didn't make me feel important. Fortunately, this feeling of "grandeur" eventually passed. You can't keep a good man down for long, I always say. And I was up to at least five minutes by now.
6. Peenie control.
I saw "The Artist Originally Known as Prince" on the VH-1 fashion and music awards recently. He sang about "Pussy Control." What does this mean? Are there vaginas wandering the land out of control? Are they terrifying men with their wide, gaping holes threatening to swallow everything within reach? Sounds sort of like that talking plant in Little Shop of Horrors.
Well, after so many years of being able to time popcorn cooking in the microwave to the time it takes me to come, I can actually say I'm able to vary the length. And the temperature, if so desired. Low, medium or high. One minute, 10 minutes, half an hour, three hours. Well, three hours is a little long for my taste. I prefer half an hour. Just short enough to avoid having to baste every few minutes, long enough to cook it all the way through to the center.
Sometimes, I don't even have to come. I'll wait until the next time. Yes, I sometimes fake my orgasms. And I can rival Meg Ryan any day. You'll want to have what I'm having.
7. Once is enough.
Gone are the days of the marathon love-making sessions. We'd start in the afternoon, then do it in the shower, then in bed a couple of times in different positions. In the morning, we'd do it again and start the whole process over once more. Repetition never seemed so wonderful.
Well, those days are gone. I'm in the autumn of the year. Vintage wine, my ass, Frank Sinatra. No fine old kegs here. He just turned 80 and he's still singing about strangers in the night.
Still, 30 isn't that bad. I've got other, more important things on my mind now. Yes, like I said earlier, I actually think with my brain now. The one on my shoulders.
Can you believe it, though? If I have an important meeting the next morning, I'll actually forgo the sex. I'd rather wake up on time, well-rested, than mess up the sheets. And besides, we just changed the sheets. What, is she nuts? In a few years, she'll be at her sexual peak, and I'll be the nutty one. I guess I can actually start learning about foreplay now. And cuddling. Yeah, cuddling sounds really cool now. "Honey, can we just cuddle tonight?"
Once is now enough. Twice would be pushing it. Three times? What does she want, a miracle?
