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Crap. I lift the plastic lid leaving the seat down. And sit. Resting with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I seem to be blinking slowly, very slowly. The taps on the sink come in and out of focus. I shut my eyes and try again. I stare at my feet. A magazine on the bathroom floor declares… “Ladies Night! How to deliver the ultimate ‘lovemaking’ performance.” I pick it up and flick through. And I learn to let her decide when she wants it and to act out her fantasies. And I have to buy her a sex toy that she’ll use and master foreplay. And of course I have to go down on her. But that is never a chore. And of course it’s impolite to come before she does. And afterwards I’ve got to hold her and caress her…make her feel as if she’s the only one in the world. I drop the magazine back to the floor. And rest my head in my hands once again. Just when I felt ready to enter the arena a spanner drops firmly in the works. I wipe and flush. Zip up. I check my face in the mirror. And I seem to be blinking slowly. There’s nothing left to do but meditate.
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