I’m gonna talk about sex.

Yes, people my age still have sex.

And yes, some of us still like sex.

Don’t you dare say “EWWWWW” while wrinkling your nose.

Baby boomers like myself who started college in the late 60′s almost invented it. 

That’s an exaggeration of course; but a lot of us did perfect it to a fine art while in college. Some of us unofficially majored in it. Well we certainly spent enough hours doing it to qualify as a major anyway.

Remember we were the generation of  “Make love not war.”

But that’s not really what I’m talking about today.

I just needed to make sure the faint of heart have left before I get into the real issue today. This is an issue a lot of people, even some like me, have a hard time discussing.

But it needs to be discussed.

And just what is this touchy sexual issue?

We’re talking about senior sex.

But not just seniors like myself, but the super seniors, the seniors of my parents generation.

And no, they don’t wear capes while doing it .

At least I don’t think so.

(Although a nice cape could hide a multitude of sins or evidence of a life well lived so to speak.)

Aaaah, but I’m rambling… back to the issue at hand.

Anyway, I’m sure everyone is wondering why I’m bringing this up now.

Am I just planning ahead you ask?

(Obviously you don’t know me very well.)

No, Doug’s mom just moved into an assisted living on Saturday.

And no I don’t expect her to become the new femme fatale of the facility. I didn’t place a gross of condoms in her nightstand or anything.

Actually there are no condoms in her nightstand.

That I know of anyway.

But it got me thinking… and reading.

There have been a lot of articles written on this.

I’ve read quite a few and thought I’d share one here. And here. And here.

When I was in my 20′s I couldn’t imagine people even the age I am now still doing it. And the thought of someone in their 80′s still doing it?

Please. Back then I’d have assumed it wasn’t even possible.

Not to mention being disgusting.

Grandparents and great grandparents couldn’t still want to do it, could they?

But right now things in my private life aren’t radically different then they were 29 years ago. And since Doug tells me he doesn’t plan to slow down- ever- this is something I know we’re going to have to really think about.

My mom lived in a truly nice senior facility for a bit. When she moved in it was all LOL’s (little old ladies), save one LOC (little old couple) who always sat so close to each other you’d assumed they were actually super glued to each other. I never, ever saw them speak to another resident.

When I was looking at a place for her the subject of sex never came up between us. We didn’t discuss her sexuality before she moved in there; and the administrators there certainly didn’t bring it up when we looked at the place.

As luck would have it, it never became an issue while mom was there. In all the time she was there only one LOM (little old man) who man moved in.

With the ratio of women to men being so skewed in his favor you’d assume he could’ve had his choice from many female admirers.

However he was vilified. No woman there would go near him. He was a pariah.

Was he mean?

No.

Was he ugly?

No.

He had actually had hair, and not just the thicket coming outta his ears like most LOM have.

For being 80+ he was a hottie.

But he had a tragic flaw that none of the women could overcome.

He wore shorts- all day, every day- to every meal.

Of course being in the South all the LOL’s there imagined themselves Scarlett O’Hara as they sat on the veranda drinking their virgin mint juleps and chatting.

And Rhett Butler did not come calling in shorts.

Anyway that LOM might as well have had a hump on his back. Actually he might’ve done better with the hump, as long as he wasn’t wearing shorts.

But I’m rambling again.

Personally I have no problem with the super seniors playing slap n tickle at a facility.

In fact I think it’s a great thing as long as both parties are into it, are discreet and they’re careful.

I find it sad is that any person or entity thinks they should be able to dictate what another and cannot do; especially to someone who has lived to that advanced age. If it makes them happy and they’re not hurting themselves or anyone else then why not let them have their fun?

Studies have proven it’s like milk. It does your body good- and your mind too. And it beats the Hell outta bingo.

In the meantime though til the big giant heads at the assisted livings come around I’m thinking of opening a rubber doorstop concession, going from place to place selling little rubber privacy protectors to the super seniors who need them so they can prevent being caught in flagrante delicto.

So the next time your looking for a gift for your super senior that lives away from home consider giving them a rubber doorstop and a few condoms.

So I guess that’s it for now. But I want to leave you with a question- Should administrators be able to dictate the sexual moires of their residents or not?

Doug, having been raised by an emotionally constipated mother, has never been big on verbal professions of love or for that matter even compliments. He never heard the words “I love you.” from his parents while growing up. But then he never saw his parents hug either; so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m lucky he isn’t more screwed up than he is.

I find that sad indeed.

In the first few weeks we were together he couldn’t compliment me enough, even going so far as to ask  “Do you have any flaws?” He drug my pedestal around with us everywhere we went.

Of course that was when we were in our ” laser eyes” stage and I could’ve served him poop on a plate and he’d have said it was fabulous and have asked for seconds.

I know that stage couldn’t last forever. It’d be unrealistic to think that it could. We got nothing done during those weeks, but went to work and had sex. A friend of mine actually had an acronym for it FLAB- fuck like a bunny.

Still, I miss those days. Not so much the sex, which we still have; but just the euphoric feeling when you’re around that one certain someone.

After our two kids were in school, he told me that I “good breeding stock”. (I guess he wanted to make sure that they didn’t turn out butt ugly before making such a grandiose statement.) He laughed when he said it and said he was just kidding; but as you can tell it has stuck with me. I still throw it back at him from time to time.

Occasionally he will write me a sonnet; but they almost always devolve into a dirty limerick something along the lines of “There once was a girl from Nantucket…” The man has some real serious issues that I don’t see getting fixed in this incarnation.

Still, I love him passionately and know that he feels the same way about me, even if I don’t hear the words all the time.

But he’s a package deal like we all are and his positives way outweigh his negatives.

Anywaay…after reading more of the emails I was sent via Ashley Madison I’ve now removed my profile there, never wanting to hear from any of those men again. The experiment is over.

I was severly creeped out by most of the men I heard from there.

Doug had just better live forever, because I don’t think I could handle dating ever again.

But I have a question for those of you in a long-term relationship. Is the romance still in your relationship? Not the cards on the usual holidays, those don’t count; but the true romance?

There’s only 1 drive-in around here anymore, and by around here I mean within reasonable driving distance. We went there a few years ago to see Mama Mia! with Evelyn, Nate and Amanda. It was a great time. Singing along with the movie with no one to complain? It was a good thing.

I remember going to the drive-in with relatives in Missouri when I was a little kid. My dad would park our station wagon in one space, then my uncle would park two spaces over. In between my mom would put down blankets, lawn chairs and an ice chest- always the ice chest. My cousins and I were allowed to run around outside til it got dark, then we were sequestered in the station wagon which was then our domain. There were only two rules for us: First- don’t touch that burning mosquito coil on the dashboard and second- don’t open that car door unless you were on fire.

Our folks always sat outside in lawn chairs smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. Come to think of it, I’m not sure if they ever really heard the movie or not, unless they just let the speaker dangle from it’s post. I don’t think they cared. It was a cheap night out at least semi-away from the kids. It was hot, really hot at night in the summertime when we always went; but it was hot at home too, since these were the days before AC, AKA the Dark Ages.

Over the years we occasionally went to the drive-in in Houston too. However, by then it was usually just my dad and I. Once my mom had central AC at our house, nothing short of a nuclear blast would get her out of her “store bought air” environment. (Well certainly not a drive-in movie anyway.) After we got there my dad would always go to the concession stand and come back loaded down with the finest cuisine it had to offer. I thought it was fabulous.

Looking back I think I was about 12 when I finally quit going to the drive-ins. I never went to one in high school. I had no reason to. By then I saw all  my movies at the mall, and wasn’t into wrestling around in the backseat of a Mustang with a sex crazed teenage boy, especially considering the Houston humidity which most nights, is fearsome.

By the time I came back to Houston after UT there was just one drive-in still in operation- The Red Bluff. It was over in Pasadena, a suburb east of Houston, which at that time was none to none too nice. The Red Bluff was an adults-only X rated drive-in. I never went. However, someone near and dear to me went more than a few times with his “date”. According to what I’ve been told the dress code was” less is more” at least as far as undies were concerned.

I’ve never understood the allure of sex in a car or sex in a tent in the summertime. Is it just me? Am I turning into my Mother? Please tell me. If you don’t want to leave your name, that’s OK. You can comment anonymously. I’d just really like to know.

So tonight we’re going. Doug doesn’t know it yet, but we are. I’m going to make us a healthy, AKA boring, picnic dinner to take and a fleece throw and we’re going to a double feature- $5 a person. You can’t beat that.

PS- Just as I was in the middle of posting this Doug walked into the room and I told him of my plans for the night.

“Can I get some nookie there?”

Some things never change. And sadly for Doug since the days of bench seats in the front have gone the way of the dodo bird, I fear he’ll just have to enjoy his movies without any halftime entertainment this evening.

Here’s one example. Sadly, in this instance, a woman actually died as a result of jealousy. It must have been horrific to plummet 14K feet to your death. Obviously she wasn’t on the top of her game because she left her packed chute in the living  room overnight; the same room where her romantic rival was sleeping. Maybe it’s just me, but once I packed my chute, it’d be within my line of sight all the time. But then you know me, I’ve always erred on the side of caution!

On to other nuttiness.

I guess this guy just didn’t want to spring for dinner and a movie. So he went this route. Apparently the bench didn’t appreciate his overtures. He let his tallywhacker do his thinking for him. I’ve warned against this before. Hopefully, he learned his lesson.

Now back to another human interest story.

This goes into the “Some guys just aren’t too smart.” files.  Note to the guys who read this blog. If you’ve just told a woman that you’re breaking up with her, really leaving her, then leave. Get the Hell out.

And of course, I don’t want to forget the “astronaut and the diaper” debacle. I have yet to hear an explanation of why that nut job just couldn’t use the bathrooms at the gas stations while she was stopping for gas while she was driving from Houston to Florida. Good to know that stringent NASA testing keeps all the wackos out.

Have you ever known anyone who went nutso because of love or lust?

It’s wasn’t the limo or anything that exotic, but it was a fun night to start off his day with a bang. And I’m happy to report that I can not appreciate any real difference between Doug at 59 and Doug at 60. I’d been told not to expect any change; but seeing is believing.

Anyway, in the little time I did have Tuesday afternoon I whipped up this little performance piece for him. (I had most of the costume pieces already.) Be forewarned there’s nudity involved. (WARNING: This clip involves nudity.) Luckily Doug loves me enough to overlook the few small changes in my body over the years.

Thanks once more to Mother Connie for another gem.

I actually have a pretty full day planned for him. We’re going to play miniature golf in the morning. (We always play for a service to be specified at a later date.) Even after all these years we’re still competitive. Then out to our favorite taqueria in Houston for beef enchiladas then home for some quality time; then out to see  Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps; then home for more quality time. Then finally a home cooked meal of his choosing, then more quality time. Hopefully, he’ll have a lot of great memories of this milestone birthday.

BTW- I still haven’t given up the idea of the limo for a later date. However, I’ll need someone else who’d want to take the limo for the last two hours and split the bill. (Four hours straight is just too much of a good time.) Anyone in west Houston that would be interested in splitting a limo sometime, please email me.

After a full day of celebrating, I’m assuming we’ll then fall into an almost narcotic like slumber.  Be back on Thursday kiddos. Wish me luck and a lot of energy!

I had big plans. If we’d done well this past weekend I was planning on hiring a limo for a couple of hours tomorrow night and taking Doug for a ride around town as a present.  I was going to bring some chocolate dipped strawberries and make sure he had a really great ride. (That is assuming I could get one of those limos that have a privacy screen.)

He only turns 60 once. I wanted to give him a great memory, something really different.

Anyway, I called a bunch of limo companies today and they’re all being asses saying they have a four hour minimum, yada yada yada. (Like they have so much else to do on a Wednesday night.) What a total crock of crap. Well there’s no way that I can afford a four hour rental after the abysmal weekend we had. Besides, after 4 hours of “gifting” I’d have a terminal case of TMJ.

Sooooo, my plans are having to change- fast. I need great birthday ideas for a 60 yr. old fiercely hetero man with the libido of an 18 yr. old. Please keep in mind that I have no time to mail order anything at this point. Also, no farm animals, or other women please. Other than that, I’m open to suggestion.

Also, I need to ask one more question. Please, please give me some feedback on this too. Is is normal to have a lot of “I’m bummed about turning 60″ sex the day before? I’m being told this is the norm.

Is this true? Or is he just trying to get a BOGO? I have no one I can ask on this issue, so I’m depending on you guys to give me some feedback. I know I have male readers now. Talk to me!

My friend The Pink Wrangler who has the blog Funny in the Head, helped me track down the woman who I saw on TV many years ago who did this very thing. That same woman now charges $750.00/ per hour, for private, one-on-one lessons. After hearing that, Doug became more agreeable. Go figure.

Since I’ve finally committed to this, wholeheartedly I went ahead and ordered a couple of books on the subject. I mean you can never be too well informed on any one subject can you?

I took the advice of one of my favorite friends from Vibrant Nation and ordered the book Sex tips for Straight Women from a Gay Man.  I haven’t read it yet, but I will soon. The front cover is really campy, like a poster for a trashy movie from the 50′s. I bet it’s going to be a hoot.

I also ordered Oral Sex He’ll Never Forget- 52 positions and techniques guaranteed to blow your man away. I don’t think there are really all that many different positions; but it should make for an interesting read. I’ll let you know later.

I know I won’t advocate any position that requires a person to be double jointed or do home renovation. I figure I need to keep things somewhat in the realm of reality!

Thank goodness Doug has volunteered his services to let me test any new found knowledge on him. What a guy!

I’m still really up in the air about how to get the word out about class. I’m percolating on it. I might talk to my two female neighbors; but I really don’t them well enough to discuss this. If they’re all uptight, I’d hate to become the neighborhood pariah. I think I’d really rather approach complete strangers, but would that be strange?

I’m excited because now I’ll be able to justify having a maid. I plan to make some cool munchies and a pitcher of sangria. I think it will really be fun. I’m going to keep it light. It’s not brain surgery after all.

I’m still looking for a tag line and marketing ideas; so please keep your ideas heading my way.

So here’s a really sweet story for everyone to enjoy. In Palmetto, FL Southeastern Guide Dogs opens it’s doors each day for the public to come and cuddle with their guide dogs in training AKA puppies.

At 9am every day when the door opens, 25-30 puppies, 6-9 weeks old come running in, yipping and stumbling over each other eager to get to the scores of the people with outstretched arms who are just as eager to hold them.

It’s a win-win situation. It’s great socialization for the puppies and the people love it as well. I’m going to see if there is such a program anywhere close to me. Hell, I’d pay them to let me come and I bet I’m not the only dog lover who would do so.

What I meant to say was “Do you kid about sex in front of your adult kids?”

I’d never been on the receiving end of a hateful emails before. I don’t care for them.

I don’t talk to Nate, Amanda or Brett about explicit sexual matters of any sort, at any time. EWWWW.

It’s true that I’m in therapy now, but contrary to emailed suggestions, I won’t be seeking help for my “problem”.

All right, I’m done with this now. Life goes on.

In the meantime, Doug, Evelyn and I plus Nate(21) and Amanda(23), met for breakfast. While we were eating I happened to casually mention that Doug and I had been getting along better. (Things had been tense of late.) In fact when he came back from a quick meeting with his crew for the Census folks yesterday morning I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and I playfully grabbed his crotch. It was nothing; not a fondle mind you, just a quick little grab. The funny part was that I had just had my hand in cornstarch so I wound up leaving a white handprint on his dress pants. (Luckily he was changing back into his shorts.)  I mentioned this at breakfast and Nate went off like a Roman candle. “I don’t want to hear about that!” He actually went kind of nutty for a minute. I thought I was going to have to find a tranq gun.

Now in his defense, Evelyn and  I have been known in the past to cross “the line” in a conversation with the kids. However, the line that he and Amanda set as far as what is acceptable in a conversation is pretty low. They’d both really like to believe that either the stork brought them or they were found in a cabbage patch. It was not my intent, at all, that my statement yesterday would have that effect on him.

It’s true that sometimes we’ve been known just to do it to bug them. However, when Evelyn and I do get going we still don’t sound like a Harlequin romance, you know the kind with the insatiable chamber maid who’s bodice is ripped and the stable boy with throbbing loins. (I’ve actually never read one. Is this accurate?)

Thank God they weren’t raised in the Kinsey family, where last nights sexual endeavors with your significant other were fodder for the breakfast table; where Kinsey would ask his daughter, “Did he bring you to orgasm last night?” Now that would be too far. Do you ever kid about sex in front of your kids and if so, do they freak out?

The man in question said he was going to the kitchen to make coffee wearing only flip-flops at 8:30 a.m.. If you click on the video in the article you can see a video of the house. It would seem to me that unless he was plastered right up to the glass that it’d be pretty hard to see him in there. Many people I know have flashed someone inadvertently at sometime in their life. However, I think it’s usually someone within your own home who gets the eyeful. It’s not usually pretty, but it happens.

Since I no longer have small children I really don’t have a problem with this; especially if the guy looked like Giles Marini (the sexy neighbor from the Sex and the City movie). However, knowing my luck, the gentleman in the buff would look like Fred Mertz.

I’ve heard that some people like to clean while naked. Somehow harsh chemicals around bare skin, especially skin that’s usually covered by clothes, just doesn’t seem like a good idea. Why would people want to do this? Are they afraid of getting bleach on their clothes? Wouldn’t they be more afraid of getting bleach on their skin?  Am I missing something here?

Back in my college days, when 1 computer would fill a room, my date and I went to party at a friend’s apartment. (We’d not been there before). After we sat down we noticed there were Polaroid’s (how old am I?) of them everywhere. Normally, that would be fine. However, they were NAKED. They weren’t doing anything in the photos- Thank God; but they were naked, in all types of poses. Naked photos propped up on the toilet, naked photos in the frig. Thank goodness the photos were taken before the subjects in the photos were anywhere that cold. (The whole shrinkage  thing, you know.) I was only in my early 20′s at that time, but I found it very disconcerting. I guess I wasn’t as much into the whole “freedom” thing as I thought. I faked a migraine and we made a quick exit.

At my age now and in my current condition I think I’d be more comfortable naked if I were upside down. Of course since holding my head down gives me a headache, I’m not going to do that anytime soon anyway. The whole subject of nakedness is a very personal one. I once stayed for a couple of weeks at the home of a woman I met in the balloon club. When I got there, I discovered that she was a nudist and all her furniture was covered in fake fur. It wouldn’t have been so bad but the fake fur looked matted- Yikes! She said I could be naked too if I wanted. I said thanks, but I wasn’t really into naked- not that there was anything wrong with that. When I was there, I stayed in my room- which only had a bed and a dresser. To each their own, I guess.

Here’s a discussion on good naked vs. bad naked-

I have one friend who used to call her boyfriend “The Big Polaris”. She said that although it was impressive to look at, it really didn’t have another other redeeming qualities. (It didn’t know any tricks or anything). Mark, the owner of said awesome appendage, thought that he was God’s gift to women, because of his impressive “rocket”. Apparently he was quite the self-centered soul, never really caring if his partner ever reached orbit just so long as he did. Size isn’t everything- a concept this pompous ass couldn’t quite grasp.

I was also told of another man who was the proud owner of some massive manhood. First thing in the morning in his dorm room, Walter would throw back the covers and place fist over fist on himself climbing up Mr. Happy til he got to the top. (Remember doing “chooses” to see who’d bat first when you were a kid? Kinda like that). Normally I might find that hard to believe. However, it was his male, heterosexual roommate that told me. I’m guessing God gave Walter that to compensate for making him one of the ugliest people to ever walk the face of the earth. He had ears that stuck out like handles on a sugar bowl through his thin, oily hair. (Combined with a hook nose and no chin he looked like a caricature come to life).  His personality matched his appearance. It was actually kinda sad.

There is another condition that unfortunately I personally saw once in my life, not long after jumping into the pool, so to speak. As he was undressing the guy was already apologizing. (I was kinda freaked out, not knowing what to expect). It’s called micropenis. After seeing it, I called a male friend the next day and asked if this was something I was likely to encounter again. I was relieved to hear “no”. He also said was “Poor bastard. I’m surprised he hasn’t killed himself”. I never saw that poor guy again. Over the years, I just referred to him as “The thumb”.

Much later in life I coined the syndrome PPS- Puny Penis Syndrome. I’ve said a lot of guys had PPS over the last few years. (Although I never knew any of them in an intimate way). However whenever a guy is being a gigantic hemorrhoid, I figure they’re PO’d about something and PPS seems as good as reason as any. Men could save a ton of money on things like Extenze if they’d just realize that’s it not quantity but quality that women really want in intimate encounters.

One of the funniest things I’ve ever seen pertaining to this issue was on Curb Your Enthusiasm. A guy who’d been accused of having PPS offered up a different theory.

When I was at UT I lived in a private dorm off campus. I never really thought much about it at the time however, looking back, I guess it was a lot nicer than most. Laurie and I had a three bedroom suite, with our own bathroom and little kitchen to whip up snacks. We converted the third bedroom into a small living room.  Laurie was pledging a sorority. In fact, most of the freshman girls in our dorm were doing that too. I wasn’t. My dad was self-employed and I didn’t want to put an extra financial burden on him so I had decided not to go through rush. Most of the freshman girls at our dorm had also had sex, at least once.

I dated a few different guys that fall, and was still able to maintained my virtue. One poor guy, Johnny, got so excited while we were making out in his car that he wound up with a wet spot on his jeans. (He was mortified.) At the time, I wasn’t completely sure how that happened. (I was dumb.) I would hear the other girls talking about sex. It sounded interesting, but not anything I was dying to do or anything. I was a late bloomer I guess.

I went with Laurie the day she was meeting her French tutor for the first time. I don’t know what it was exactly, but I was smitten by him. He had blond hair and blue eyes. (Richard, my prom date, was a blond too. I was in my blond phase, I guess.) Apparently he liked what he saw since he asked me to a party before her first tutoring session was over. My first big fraternity party was a toga party. I remember wearing my bra with one strap down, under my toga (sheet.) Upon entering the frat house every guy handed over a bottle of booze that was poured into a communal bucket. Most of the freshmen being only 18 or 19 at the time, I have no idea how they procured the booze. Remember the movie Animal House? That’s pretty much the way it was. Reggie gave me a glass of “punch” which I didn’t drink. (That “punch” could’ve stripped paint.)

The music was loud and most of the people looked to be having a good time, the couples hanging on each other. Since it was apparent that I wasn’t having a good time, we left and went to his friend’s apartment. The moment we got there, the other couple split for the bedroom, leaving us alone on the couch. Some kissing ensued, but I was determined that nothing would go too far. (I discovered that’s a lot harder to maintain when you’re just wearing a sheet.) It was like being with an octopus. However, my defenses held and my virtue remained unblemished. Reggie got pissed and call me a “tease.” (I was devastated but didn’t let on.) The one and only bit of advice I was given by my dad before I left for UT was “Don’t be a tease.” It was a very quiet and very, very fast trip back to my dorm. Reggie didn’t walk me to the door, or even get out of his car for that matter, when I got back to the dorm. I went to bed that night feeling conflicted.

I called Houston the next day and spoke to Pam, my brother’s girlfriend. Although my dad and I were close, I knew I couldn’t ask him. (He’d have hunted Reggie down like a rabid dog.) Pam was a few years older than I, so I thought she could give me good advice. Basically, she told me that it was time to “give it up.” She said that I was in college now and college guys were just going to expect that. I remember her last words- “The best you can hope for is being able to decide who, when and where it would be.”

So that’s just what I did…The exciting conclusion of” Was it good for you” in Part 2, coming soon.