Buckets of it

Buckets of it

I’ve looked on many women with lust. I’ve committed adultery in my heart many times. God knows I will do this and forgives me.
James Earl Carter
Thirty-ninth President of the United States

You wanna know the bad part about getting older and still trying to get laid? No, it’s not finding willing partners or lack of stiffness in some places. It’s not even about lack of desire. The bad part about hitting middle-age with a healthy libido and a wandering eye is that while my sex drive is nearly as high it was when I was in college I think more like a full-grown adult now. Meaning, I can’t run up on or in women like I did when I was a kid. Then it was all about getting notches on my six-shooter every chance I could get but it’s different for me these days. No, middle-age has made me much more discriminating when it comes to searching for my casually carnal companions.

In my first book, The Penis Manifesto, I wrote about my sexual experiences from my teenage years up to my early thirties. People who have read it have told me they marveled at the situations I got myself in and out of from letting my lust lead the way but I had no regrets about those years because to me I was doing nothing except what a single young man does or should be doing. Some of the women I were with I truly loved but most, yeah, I admit I was a stone playa trying to get my rocks off before I moved on to the next one. I’m not going to sit here and try to convince you I didn’t have some regrets about the way I was rolling then because I do but I don’t have many though. I make no bones about enjoying fine and even not so fine feminine companionship but I wasn’t so much of a horndog then that I didn’t know emotional attachments can get sticky. See, those emotional attachments get stickier the older you get though at least for me it does anyway. If you ask me about marriage, I’ll straight up tell you I could give less than a damn about getting hitched but in my middle years I try to lust for a woman’s mind just as much her body now.

I try to be good but that fuzzy temptress be callin' a brutha

I try to be good but that fuzzy temptress be callin’ a brutha

Nah, that’s not completely true. I honestly do enjoy a woman’s intellect as much as her physical charms, don’t misunderstand me, but the real reason I don’t tomcat as much as I used to is because of patience or lack thereof. I don’t have the patience anymore to go through all the games I have to play to get laid. I live in NYC so trust and believe it’s not hard to find any FWB of whatever size, shape, religion, or ethnic origin that I my fancy may desire but going through the meet cutes, number exchanging, dates, and conversations when all I really want to hit it and quit is played out for me now.


I’ve met a few women who like to cut to the chase and get to the main event but most times I have to go through the mating ritual to prove how much I want what I want. I had the tolerance back then to play the long con but the enthusiasm isn’t there now if all I want to do is cut some and bounce. It’s also not fair to my quarry either because several times I pursued a woman just to leave after my lust was satisfied. Behavior like that was foul on my end because, bluntly, I played these women to get my rocks off and many of them let me know they were hurt when they found out that’s all I wanted.

Giggity me all night long, baby

Giggity me all night long, baby

Another mixed blessing to getting older is that I’ve developed a conscience and an exacting memory. My conscience causes me pain when I realize the guilt I carry from twisting a woman around my finger just to get in her panties when she was looking for much more than I was willing to give. My exacting memory hurts in that it can be an unreliable guide that takes my mind back to the scene of my many carnal crimes over the years. I could play it off and say that I’ve been dogged my fair share by women I wanted to build worlds with too but that’s kind of hollow because I’m the one who has to live with the guilt from my actions on my soul. The women who’ve dumped me in my life probably haven’t taught about me since they told me to kick rocks but I know firsthand that the scars I laid on the ones I dogged out took a long time to heal and some still haven’t. My sins, my guilt.

So how do I deal with my raging libido in middle age? Well, besides wearing thick glasses and shaving my palms every three days (I kid), I keep my pants zipped up and actually take the time to see if I can get as hot for a woman’s mind just as much as I can the curve of her behind. It’s slower now and harder going but it has cut down on the heartbreak on both sides. I’m still all for getting a taste as soon as I can because the only thing I turn down is my collar and since I’m wearing a t-shirt as I type this I can’t even do that now. Yeah, the casual is not as casual as it used to be but my life on the whole is better just from actually taking the time to get to know a potential partner. I still have days, most days honestly, when I jump out of the bed looking like the wolf from a classic Tex Avery cartoon full of hot-blooded desire to smash nearly every woman between eighteen and seventy I can find but I take a breath and chill now. I chill and realize that while it’s the height of joy to still be the unique creation I am that not every woman walks this world to satisfy my desires and I’m a dummy for even trying to make that happen like I did in my younger days. I’m still trying working on it so forgive me if I slip from time to time however.

Yeah, just like that

WOMAN: My body is a temple
MAN: No problem, I’m willing to convert

—Jason O. Logan

Anyone interested in finding out how I chopped it up in my younger days should hit the link and peep my opus.  Check it out because I could use the money.


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