Dating : I’m Sorry I Couldn’t Get Hard For You

Weeks later, one Saturday after a beach outing in Malibu, we drove back to her apartment as the sun was setting. She was cooking dinner and I was invited. I had some vintage wine I wanted her to taste.

As the evening wore on, it became quite clear she wanted to have sex with me. She whispered it when everyone else had left and it was only two of us standing in the tiny kitchen.

Only, after a solid hour of foreplay, of undressing each other, falling into each other, of moving from the couch to the bedroom, of starting and stopping it also became clear that there would be no penetration as part of the act.

I couldn’t get an erection, not even half of one. We fooled around a bit more and went to sleep.

In the morning, the same thing happened. Eventually, we put our clothes on and made breakfast together.

This piece isn’t about my sex life or picking up women. It’s about recognizing that you don’t know you’re addicted to something until you can see what’s happening in front of your own two eyes.