Why do guys have to talk so much shit about their sex lives?
A couple days ago I was having lunch with an old pal, a guy I've known since we were high school drop-outs who found ourselves on the factory floor at one of the big plants they used to have in Guelph back in the pre-NAFTA era. I wouldn't say we're tight, but our paths cross from time to time and we'll get together for lunch and a few pints.
So Buddy's plant shut down a few years ago and he's buttering his bread with a gig here and a gig there; he's actually living Todd Hirsch's gig economy!
After the job disappeared to Mexico, it didn't take long for his marriage to fall apart. Yup, sad to say, a lot of gals find a regular pay-cheque is a real turn-on in a partner.
No pay-cheque? No partner!
So the marriage falls apart, there's an acrimonious divorce, and Buddy's world, in the space of a year or so, shrivelled from a house overlooking the Humber River and a cottage up north to an apartment somewhere out in the boonies.
But he is full of hope! Thinks he's going to have a date with a hottie he met on the Ashley Madison website!
Tells me he's gonna have a weekend of wild sex!
At our age you're maybe gonna have fifteen minutes of wild sex, and after that, well, lets just hope you brought a book along to read or something... a wild weekend has lots of time left after those first fifteen minutes.
I don't even have the heart to tell him those hotties at Ashley Madison are all fake...