I guess I’ve always been oriented toward females. I mean, I was a normal active boy, totally uninterested until puberty kicked in, but ever since then yes, I’ve wanted to be with a girl. Sure I’ve had a few fantasies about girls in the plural, but I’m a practical person and I know my limitations. It’s enough of a challenge for me to please one woman. Emotionally.

The most interesting girlfriend I ever had was the one who got away. Maybe that’s what made her interesting. No: she was inherently so. She may have even been smarter than me in some ways. Her name was Lily.

I married my other girlfriends. I was 25 when I met Christy, and fell in fuck with her, and so proposed. She was an experienced 18 at the time. We stayed together for a year and a half, although she insisted that we open the marriage up after five months. That’s how we got the clap, and visited the free clinic, and read the flyer about the commune, and joined.

My other marriages were serious. I met my second wife Barbara at the commune. She was a single mother of six-year old Norah when Christy left. We married in the cult and had our two sons over the next ten years. Then we migrated to Oakland to recruit.

I began to move away from (which really means beyond) some of the cult philosophy. As anyone knows who’s been there, it is extremely difficult to maintain an intimate relationship when one member begins to doubt and differ.

So Barbara and I separated. I had the boys half time and maintained a relationship with Norah too. And then I met Lily. I was living in a small apartment then, just getting into big wall climbing. Lily has a fear of heights, so she didn’t join me in that (though she did learn how to belay). What we had in common, besides walking and dining and drinking good coffee and considering existential questions, was the rearing of our sons. She only had one but he was my Jonah’s age: 12 years old and a budding man.

Here’s what she told me her first husband said about the basic male perspective (i.e., libido): “When I encounter a new woman, I wonder what it would be like to fuck her; when I encounter a new man, I wonder if I can beat him up.”

That seemed primitive to me, but she insisted that her second husband felt the same way.

I don’t. I’ve never wanted to beat up anyone except my younger brother (my parents forbade it so I became an ace baiter/teaser instead).

As far as I’m concerned, I’m living half-erect most days. I’m ready any time. It’s like I prance around nagging the ambient women with “Now? Now? Can I now? Huh?” and most of the time they give me a disparaging look and as much as send me to my room. Every once in a while I get lucky. It’s like I nagged her till I wore her down. “All right,” she almost sighs. “Come here.”

At least, that’s how it is when I’m not married. At the end of my Lily relationship I joined another group. I met another Barbara. I married again. When I’m married I prance and ask permission, too, but the nature of the conversation is different.

I’m a good lay but I’m not fancy. Maybe it’s because I got into it so late, but what I do is kiss and fuck, and I do those well. I never ventured into oral sex, or anal, or bondage, or porn. It’s a little awkward when a new woman goes down on me. I don’t stop her, and sure I can enjoy it, but I don’t fully relax, because I assume she expects reciprocation, and I don’t want to, so I’m not going there. And she probably won’t say anything about that, thank whomever, but it’s a moment to get beyond, you know?

I have a long body. I have a mobile mouth. I have a good cock. I never fuck a woman without making love to her. I hug her fully. I penetrate her deeply and for as long as she indicates she wants. I don’t put my mouth on her anywhere below her neck, but I’ll pull her thighs together beneath me, to increase the genital embrace, and if she’ll rock and roll with me she won’t regret the sensation.

And I’m not one of those guys who stops the affection after ejaculation. I’m into cuddling. I’ll gladly spoon around her. I’ve always lived with people and I like a sleepover. I’m good for whispering in the night or raiding the kitchen and smuggling food back to bed.

I’m no less of a man because I lack violent tendencies. I’m competitive. I show off for the ladies. I’d happily wrestle and rough-house with my sons (if they would). When I encounter a stranger I do pay attention to gender, but I think that’s less about sex than about safety. If the person approaching is male, he may be dangerous. I check him out to see if he’s a threat. If it’s a female I check her out cause I’m male. Shit: maybe I am saying what Lily’s husband said.

I guess I should re-assess. That’s part of what this year is about anyway.

I’m a widower now. I lost my second Barbara to fast-moving cancer a month ago. Everyone advises me to sit tight for a year, make no changes, adjust to my loss and to my new circumstances. I’ve had loss before but I never sat still. The family nicknamed me “Sudden” for a reason.