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 naked 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
