QThis question comes from a point of real frustration. I’m a 26-year-old straight guy. Due to my being overweight, awkward, and generally unable to attract women I’m actually interested in, I’ve only been sexually intimate with prostitutes and women of low caliber. I have never been able to sustain an erection during intercourse. I have climaxed during oral sex or hand jobs, but I’m not physically accustomed to getting off with anything but my own hand. Worst of all, my intense fear of impotence has caused me to avoid sexual liaisons. When dating, I feel threatened by the expectation of sex within the first few dates. Any solid advice? —Sick of Beatin’
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Vary your masturbatory technique. Stop sleeping with women unless you’re attracted to them on some level, and recognize that holding the women who will sleep with you in contempt is an expression of self-hatred and knock it the fuck off. Since sex within the first few dates makes you feel anxious, inform anyone you date that you’re not up for having sex within the first few dates. And the next time you find yourself in bed with someone or sense that things are headed there, SOB, tell her that you’re really only interested in oral and mutual masturbation—at least at first—and that you generally take a long time to come. Then you don’t have to stress out about failing to meet her expectations, because she won’t be expecting anything other than what you’re capable of delivering.
Q I’m a heterosexual male. I’ve never been in a long-term relationship, I’ve never been in a short-term relationship, I’ve never been in a relationship. Four make-out sessions in my youth and paid sex with cheap street prostitutes is all the physical intimacy I’ve ever known. And sometime before the end of this year, I’ll be turning 45. I have no explanation for how I fucked up something this important this badly for this long, but here are my best clues:
ASome people are alone all their lives because they’re too damaged or too terrified or too terrifying, ALONE, and some people are alone all their lives because they are simply, as the cliche goes, unlucky in love. It sounds like you suffer from social and sexual anxieties—damaged and terrified—and could benefit from seeing a shrink. You say you’re barely getting by, ALONE, but if you’re spending money on cigarettes or booze or pot or all three, well, you might want to prioritize your mental health over those nonessentials.
Growing up, I suffered the outcast status to which class brains are routinely assigned. So I fell behind socially. Then I went to an elite, all-male university and fell even further behind. The sexual revolution passed me by. So I retreated into my career. I never learned how to date. I considered paying for sex, but I decided that was the equivalent of admitting that I was a failed human being. Now I spend my days consumed with loneliness, resentment of the past, and a constant longing for a hint of intimacy. Longevity is a family trait, and I expect to live into my 90s. Is there any plausible way to salvage something from this mess? —Stop the Parade, I Want to Get On
