How even good sex can provide moments of unexpected humor

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I’ve lived quite a long life and it’s been varied and rich in experiences. I’ve been fortunate enough to have had many sexual partners, despite being short and not handsome and not wealthy.

Most of my sexual experiences have ranged from good to amazing but there have inevitably been some that were best considered as rich material for the later construction of hopefully-amusing anecdotes.

And so, as I’m in a self-deprecating mood today (as is so often the case), I not-so-proudly present a brief list of some of my most memorable sexual squibs.

Back in my days at university, after my first year, I acquired a reputation as someone who could reliably provide long-lasting and adventurous sex. This had its advantages, the most obvious being that young women would approach me from time to time and request proof.

But on one occasion I ended up in bed with an American woman who, towards the end of our first hour-long session during which she’d been essentially a passive participant, looked up and asked me earnestly, “so why do people say you’re so good in bed?”

I couldn’t help myself: I collapsed in tears of laughter. That was not much appreciated. End of encounter.

On another occasion many years later in Riga I met by chance a very attractive Russian woman and after dinner we went back to my hotel room. We kissed, we touched each other, we became very aroused. I undressed her and she undressed me. Then she looked down at my penis and said, “Oh, good! I don’t like it when they’re very big.”

I also found this quite unintentionally hilarious. It’s always good to have a pre-game pep-talk!

Then there was the time I was having very athletic sex with a former ballet dancer on her bed in her London flat. It was an old wooden bed and had not been carefully looked after. Consequently, about two hours into the proceedings, it collapsed with great noise underneath us.

About a minute later her landlord walked in to find us naked on top of the collapsed bed, still enthusiastically focusing on each other. He looked at us with a disappointed expression on his face. “I’ll be adding the cost of a new one to next month’s rent,” he said dourly, shaking his head, before turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

On another occasion, in my early fifties, I met a woman for dinner one November in San Francisco at a charming but dimly-lit restaurant she recommended. We enjoyed each other’s conversation and began flirting over the main course. By dessert it was clear we were both interested in getting to know each other more intimately, so we went back to her place.

We enjoyed each other more or less continuously until sunrise the next morning. As the sun broke in through the window of her apartment she murmured, “I don’t think I’ve ever cum so many times. That was incredible.” Then she turned to look at me as the morning light caught my face, and continued, “It’s a real shame you’re not good-looking too.”

There have been other experiences that could have had ego-flattening potential were it not for the fact that I have a robust sense of humor and an appreciation for the absurdities of life. And even more importantly, a great appreciation of all of life’s variety and new experiences.

As they say: “If you can’t laugh at yourself, you’re probably not seeing yourself clearly.”

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