When I was 15 I had it figured out. It was all theoretical then, but not less true for that.

I’d spent some time on the subject. I’d read what I could without humiliating myself (I considered the illustrations in my father’s edition of Candide racy, and the opening of Baldwin’s Another Country downright prurient). I’d discussed the subject with any friend who would enter it. I’d thought widely.

I intended to be good at sex. I wasn’t exactly eager to do it, but I planned to do it well. I so didn’t want to die a virgin that if I had been stricken with a terminal ailment, and if the Make-A-Wish foundation existed then, I’m sure my feel-good story would have been just that.

So my developing ideas were not based on my own experience, but that doesn’t mean they were wrong. In fact, I’ve concluded that theory/imagination is often more reliable than experience. From what I’ve seen, our brains sometimes alter us a bit, to help us get through powerful occasions. That altering, be it from endorphins or selective amnesia or creative recollection, helps us survive the experience but renders us unreliable as witnesses.

I concluded that these are what it takes to be a good lover:

Imagination;
Consideration;
Coordination;
Practice.

Need I say more? Probably not, but I will.

A few years later, I began to have sex. I didn’t discard any of those nouns. They were all needed. But I discovered that there was one more necessary quality, and it included and surpassed my collected four.

Here it is.

Sex is embarrassing. In order to be able to enjoy it, you must learn how to handle your own shyness, bashfulness, awkwardness, triumph. Maturity in general is about acquiring enough experience and wisdom that you can bear to be embarrassed and continue.

More than that, sex is embarrassment with another. To be a good lover, you must learn how to help your partner deal with embarrassment too.

When you’re ready for that, you’ll be ready for physical love.