after something Tiko said

Not only was I never a great fuck but
I never even belonged to that vast class of people
who once thought they were.
I have fucked people who thought they were
and one person who actually was
and that’s about the closest I ever got.

It’s sort of like catching a no-hitter in baseball.
You can allow yourself a brief acknowledgment
that someone cannot be a great fuck
all by themselves but you cannot forget
that this was a one-off in your life
and most likely a daily event in theirs.

So when Sandy with a y asked me if I was—
she wasn’t a lady who wanted to waste time—
I told her honestly that no I wasn’t
but that we might still manage things
if she herself was great. She burst out laughing
said “Good enough!” But she wasn’t.

She said she was and said it was my fault
the fucking didn’t go that well at all
and I said something about poor workmen
always blaming tools and she got furious.
I proposed that such a thing is no one’s fault
and she proposed I shove it up my ass.

Friends, this is why 90% of the all adults
at any given time are celibate—the lovers
in stale relationships, between relationships,
too young and scared, too old and scared,
unable to find what they are looking for, etc.
Casual sex is far too often much too fraught.

There are standards, rubrics even, now.
There’s no excuse for fumbling or overzeal
or underzeal, dyssynchronicity or too much
hair or too much stank or too much sweat.
You have to prove you’re not diseased
and demonstrate some prophylactic expertise.

You’re read a user’s manual on Pleasuring.
There is, however gauche, some measuring.
Talk dirty. Wait, I didn’t mean perverted!
I adore it when you’re wild, an animal,
but not a dog—
or yes a dog—and not a crocodile,
not a monkey chattering and not a kangaroo.

The great fucks—well, the one I knew—
are unconcerned with all of these considerations—
seem only to concern themselves with you,
but that is mostly an illusion, not exactly true.
They are in tune with currents, waves, swells,
winds of which mere mortals haven’t any clue.


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Image by Rob.


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Tom Riordan lives in New Jersey. He’s a retired restaurant worker and teacher, and dreams about becoming pope for his next career.

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