Advice for the Living

I remember an old episode of the Dr. Ruth radio show where she read a letter from a man in his 50s who as still a virgin. The guy seemed distressed. He seemed desperate. Or that was the impression I got from her reading of his letter. Dr. Ruth's advice was to be patient, wait for the right woman, be yourself. She assured him that his perfect someone was out there and the magic day would come. It would be special, she said, and worth the wait. Her tone was friendly and encouraging and oozing with professional condescension, like she was consoling a coworker who had been passed over for a promotion. Hang in there. 

No, I thought. Wrong. Very bad advice. Clearly, what this man needed was a whore. "My good man," I would have said, "you missed the gun. Now your virginity has become a guarded habit. Since you haven't made peace with your fate, the only way to break this habit is to pay for sex. If you are religious, know that your god will forgive you. If you fear the law, get your ass to Nevada. If you fear disease, remember there are cures at little cost. If you feel shame, get the fuck over it. Don't jerk off. Watch some porn. Let it build. Then go to the yellow pages and make the appointment. It's like ordering pizza. When she shows up, you can tell her your wife died and that you are lonely. Or you can tell her the truth. It won't matter. You don't want to die without fucking someone, do you?" 

That was at least thirty years ago. I figure the guy's dead by now. I bet he died without ever getting his dick wet. A lot of men do. It's better never to have been, but if you're not so lucky, you should get laid while you're here.

When Dr. Ruth would get calls about anal sex, her advice was always the same. Lots of lube. Go slow. Vagina then butt and never vice versa. Respect your partner. Discuss everything in advance. Condoms. All bad advice.

Memento mori.

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