So here's a story I'm embarrassed to tell.
Years upon years ago, when I was in the midst of a slut phase that should be ending...any day now, there was a boy I used to see out and about who I found to be incredibly attractive.
(Let's call him Sally. That way you know it's not his real name.)
He also seemed fairly popular around the scene (is that the right usage? "around the scene," "in the scene?") and so it took a little while just to get myself noticed.
As soon as I did, however, we really seemed to hit it off. We went out a few times, and I was looking forward to the inevitable sexual circus that was bound to transpire.
That's when one of my friends dropped the bomb on me (baby):
"He can't get hard."
Sorry for the informal nature of that statement, but I felt it was best to cut to the chase.
"What do you mean he can't get hard?"
Apparently Sally got around quite a bit (hence the popularity) and apparently while he did get "around," he had trouble getting "up."
"Well then why do people keep sleeping with him," I asked.
My friend thought about it, and then responded "It's sort of like The Sword in the Stone, I guess. Everybody wants to believe they'll be the guy that'll fix the problem."
I know what you're thinking:
That kind of problem is physical or psychological. It can't just be fixed.
To that I say--Leave it to a bunch of gay men to make a challenge out of anything.
I'd love to say that I excluded myself from all this, but--
Well, The Sword and the Stone is one of my favorite movies.
So yes, I did spend the night at Sally's place shortly after talking to my friend, and yes, things happened, and no, they didn't happen, and yes, I pulled out every trick in the book.
What transpired in that bedroom was nothing less than a Vegas act worthy of the Great Celine Dion, and yet...
Sally's sword remained firmly in the stone.
I'd also like to tell you that I didn't go back and try again a second time a week later, but, alas, I'm trying to be honest here.
I felt dejected.
What if it was me?
Oh sure, it had happened with every other guy in town and probably a few women, but still, why wasn't I King Arthur?!?!?
Time went on, and Sally's popularity waned--at least with us older people.
Every once in awhile, a new kid will come around who would show an interest in Sally, and despite what anyone would say about "soft" issues, the kid will go ahead and try to be the One Who Makes It Hard.
They never are, but maybe one day, we'll have a King.
Years upon years ago, when I was in the midst of a slut phase that should be ending...any day now, there was a boy I used to see out and about who I found to be incredibly attractive.
(Let's call him Sally. That way you know it's not his real name.)
He also seemed fairly popular around the scene (is that the right usage? "around the scene," "in the scene?") and so it took a little while just to get myself noticed.
As soon as I did, however, we really seemed to hit it off. We went out a few times, and I was looking forward to the inevitable sexual circus that was bound to transpire.
That's when one of my friends dropped the bomb on me (baby):
"He can't get hard."
Sorry for the informal nature of that statement, but I felt it was best to cut to the chase.
"What do you mean he can't get hard?"
Apparently Sally got around quite a bit (hence the popularity) and apparently while he did get "around," he had trouble getting "up."
"Well then why do people keep sleeping with him," I asked.
My friend thought about it, and then responded "It's sort of like The Sword in the Stone, I guess. Everybody wants to believe they'll be the guy that'll fix the problem."
I know what you're thinking:
That kind of problem is physical or psychological. It can't just be fixed.
To that I say--Leave it to a bunch of gay men to make a challenge out of anything.
I'd love to say that I excluded myself from all this, but--
Well, The Sword and the Stone is one of my favorite movies.
So yes, I did spend the night at Sally's place shortly after talking to my friend, and yes, things happened, and no, they didn't happen, and yes, I pulled out every trick in the book.
What transpired in that bedroom was nothing less than a Vegas act worthy of the Great Celine Dion, and yet...
Sally's sword remained firmly in the stone.
I'd also like to tell you that I didn't go back and try again a second time a week later, but, alas, I'm trying to be honest here.
I felt dejected.
What if it was me?
Oh sure, it had happened with every other guy in town and probably a few women, but still, why wasn't I King Arthur?!?!?
Time went on, and Sally's popularity waned--at least with us older people.
Every once in awhile, a new kid will come around who would show an interest in Sally, and despite what anyone would say about "soft" issues, the kid will go ahead and try to be the One Who Makes It Hard.
They never are, but maybe one day, we'll have a King.
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