Q This 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
have only been sexually intimate with prostitutes and women of low
calibre. I have never been able to sustain an erection during
intercourse. I’ve climaxed during oral sex or handjobs. Worst of
all, the 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. –Sick Of Beatin’
A Join a gym and lose some weight. You’ll gain some
confidence and improve your health—and your circulation—which could
help in the keeping-the-dick-hard department. Seeing a doctor and
getting your hands on some Viagra couldn’t hurt.
Stop sleeping with women unless you’re attracted to them, 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.
Finally, there are sex workers out there who will not only get you
off in exchange for your money, SOB, but will work with you on
improving your skills and building up your confidence. You may have
slept with one already without realizing it because you dismissed her
as a cheap whore. Dumb mistake.
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. Before the end of this year,
I’ll be turning 45.
I have no explanation for how I fucked up something this important
for this long, but here are my best clues: 1. Deep down, I don’t
think I’ve ever really believed women could possibly find me
attractive. 2. For me, being rejected and/or humiliated after
approaching someone is an almost paralyzing fear. 3. My
professional/career/financial situation is only slightly better than my
romantic/sexual situation: I’m always either barely getting by or
in some crisis where staying non-homeless is my only priority.
I want to understand what the fuck is wrong with me and why I’m
staring at a lifetime of totally unfulfilled romantic and sexual hopes
and dreams. The last thing I need right now is some Pollyanna bullshit.
I want brutal honesty. –A Lifelong Onanist Needs Explanations
A Some 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.
Now here’s the usual line of Pollyanna crap that we advice
professionals are supposed to squart out for people like you:
There’s someone out there for everyone, kiddo, hang in there! But
that’s a lie, ALONE, and you know it and I know it and everyone
who’s ever said that knows it. If it were true, then…no one would
be alone all their life. Unfortunately, I can’t just tell you to
accept that you’re going to be alone all your life because we
can’t know for sure that you were one of those people—one of
those people destined to be alone all his life—until your life ends.
So here’s what you need to do between now and death: Keep a roof
over your head, put food on your table, get some help with your
emotional problems and take your pleasures where you can. Do things you
enjoy—alone, if you must—and you might meet someone along the way.
Or not.
Q I’m a 60-year-old male, securely retired from a
successful professional career. I own a nice home. I ought to be happy,
right? There’s just one catch: I’m still a virgin. Growing up,
I suffered the outcast status to which class brains are routinely
assigned. I fell behind socially. Then I went to an 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. Is there any plausible way to salvage something from this
mess? –Stop The Parade, I Want To Get On
A You’ve got a big advantage over ALONE, STPIWTGO, in
that you’re financially secure. That’s something that many
women look for in men—women are sex objects, men are success objects,
blah blah blah—and you could leverage your professional success to
your personal advantage. You wouldn’t be the first man who was
paying for sex but, since he was careful to launder the money through a
relationship, wouldn’t have to admit to “paying for sex.”
So, STPIWTGO, why not sell the house, move to a retirement community
where women outnumber the men, wear nice clothes and drive a nice
car?
But first: See a doctor. Reading your letter, I wondered if you
don’t suffer from an undiagnosed case of mild-to-moderate autism.
There’s no cure, but a diagnosis might make you feel like less of a
failure, STPIWTGO, and it could give you a better idea of the obstacles
you need to overcome to make a personal and romantic connection with a
woman between now and death. And I know you’re opposed to
“paying for it”—no conveniently located and economically
priced sex workers for you—but you also might want to consider seeing
a shrink who can refer you to a sexual surrogate. Then your insurer
will pay for it, STPIWTGO, not you.
This article appears in Jul 30 – Aug 5, 2009.