A Hard Dick Is Hard To Find: Gay America’s Erection Crisis! Part II

A Hard Dick Is Hard To Find: Gay America’s Erection Crisis! Part II

So what do I think is the reason for the shortage of hard-ons among a growing number of us gay guys – regardless of age – and our need to turn to pharms to make it happen? (Hell, have you noticed even porn stars are having problems staying hard and they pop Big V like M and M’s?) Excluding the meth heads who, even if they’re 19, can’t get it up, it’s my firm belief we, straight guys and gay guys alike, have become desensitized to sex. Sex and skin are all over the place. My female college students when I was still teaching dressed like streetwalkers, buff bodies are all over TV, and I even spotted a billboard for Manhunt.net on Interstate 95 here in Fort Lauderdale. No wonder guys came out of the limp dick closet by the millions and made V Pfizer’s best seller ever.  (Promos for V, its generic versions and all is ED cousins account for the most spam e-messages of any other product!) It takes more and more to get us hot.  And you have to agree, there was something to be said for the good old days when gay life was only whispered about, not talked about in Congress and every major media outlet,  and where we felt like we were members of secret society, not a hot demographic sought out by marketers.

A few years ago my ex, who’s 10 years older than me, after being content for decades with a platonic relationship (which is why I’m a pig), decided he wanted to resurrect our sex life. OK, I said, no problem; it beat putting money down at the sex clubs. But when his Pee Wee wouldn’t react to my alluring advances, he desperately asked if I knew how he could get some Viagra. Not letting on that I get at least a dozen spam messages a day from pharms trying to hustle the stuff now that I’m such an established customer, I innocently said I would Google the web.

He checked the mailbox three times a day like a kid waiting for Santa to slide down the chimney. Finally, IT came. He asked me to sign for the envelope postmarked India because he didn’t want to show his face to the mailman. But when it came time to pop the pill (I know this sounds nuts), he stopped cold in his tracks. All the contra-indications  those announcers on the commercials rattled off on the sound track while the visual showed some couple exchanging lascivious smiles suddenly engulfed his brain. “I can’t. I can’t do it. What if …,” he stammered. Was he worried about that erection “lasting more than four hours?” Frankly, I think that’s a ploy to push the shit. We should be so lucky.

So there the pills sit, forlorn and abandoned, in a dark desk drawer. I would have to have the luck of being married to the one guy in the whole U.S. of A., straight, gay, or into canine creatures, who ordered Viagra and never took it!


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