The remainder of my twenties rolled along like a train ride through the Prairies, with only a few notable variations in an otherwise flat landscape. And my thirties weren’t much different. I did finally manage to get laid. A couple times. With secretaries from work.
The first unhappy episode I wrote about earlier. The second one, which I haven’t mentioned, could be described as a minor victory for my fragile lovemaking ego since I was able to hold out for about ten minutes and then, rather than witnessing my partner flee in tears of immediate regret, I watched her fall asleep n***d on her side in my bed, probably because of the two dusty bottles of wine once belonging to Simon and Ellen, which she drank that evening. During the night, I moved over and pressed my body against her back and
