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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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