The Penis Papers, Part 4

With all these virile guys telling us about Viagra, you get to be proud of the fact you can't get it up! Ain't life grand?

By Terence Clarke

May 16, 2003 |

Virile guys and Viagra

Lennie is an automobile salesman. He is 61 years old.

Years ago, you wouldn't admit to not being able to get it up. It was shameful. But now, with Viagra, and with those ads that show Bob Dole and the race car driver, virile guys telling you about Viagra, it's all changed. In some respects, I guess, you get to be proud of the fact that you can't get it up!

I had had some pretty difficult troubles. It would come and go. And when it came, it really didn't come up all the way. Sometimes it would. But it wouldn't stay that way. Or it would stay, but only halfway. And lately, it had gotten to be that sometimes it wouldn't come up at all.

This is a problem. Because most of the women with whom I've had the opportunity to be intimate lately (I mean, I'm not talking about dozens or anything. Just a couple of nice women who wanted to have a companion and wanted to have a nice sex life) want to be active. Just because you're 60 and a woman doesn't mean that life's come to an end. I mean, these are real women!

But I haven't been able to, and I was really ashamed of myself. Mad at myself. It was as though I just didn't care. That's how I thought of it. I'd just given up somehow, even though I wanted a nice sex life, too. So I stopped going out because I didn't want to have that level of embarrassment. And I didn't want them to be embarrassed. Because I've had women ask me if it's them that's the problem. "Is there something I'm not doing?" That kind of thing.

But now there's Viagra.

So I was in my bathroom the other night with Barbara, a woman I've been going out with. She's 52. We're both a little overweight. Our skin could have a little better tone. But we bathed together and then we stood in front of the mirror. My butt's mottled. Some skin tags here and there. Moles. A couple of glasses of wine on the counter. But you know, she took me into her hand and gave me a great big hard-on. It was the nicest thing. And even better, it stayed that way for quite a while. Barbara stood behind me and held me in her hand, kind of waving me, maybe, for the mirror.

"Has it always been this way with you?" she asked me.

I told her it hadn't. I explained the situation.

"Well ... so just look at you now!" she said, her hand reaching around in front of me as we looked at ourselves in the mirror. "So grand." She glanced up at me in the mirror. "So grand!"

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