OK. This could be my last shot at this monster unless someone asks questions. But if you should recall Kris Kristofferson's song "To Beat the Devil," you'll see that it's my anthem.
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Because of such intense embarrassment as a child, the bullying, surgeries, infections, and general withdrawal into daydreams, I became secretly hypersexual. I privately read and and tried to imagine what I feared I might never experience physically and emotionally.
Through the 1950s there was very little available to learn. With my limited vision, the few scientific sources were agony to read. Soft porn and pseudo-scientific "manuals" only served to frustrate me more. (Drug stores sold condoms from under the counter,mostly to whispering grown men).
By the 1960s, I was resigned to never expecting useful information. Locker-room bullshit was only that. The media (black-and white TV or radio) were sexless. (Though Lucy Ricardo somehow got pregnant, she and Ricky never entered the same bed).
But "the pill" arrived, and it had something to do with sexuality. People began to talk. Centuries of public silence about sex began to dissolve. The so-called "sexual revolution" emerged, and I paid attention. The Rolling Stones sang "I Can't Get No Satisfaction," and topless girls wore flowers.
A few unforgettable girls allowed me my first pathetic experiments. My obsession with sex took a permanent turn as I realized that every girl was different from the others. I learned something new from each one.
It has remained my habit ever since, even through long-term relationships and marriage, that a love-making session can never be the same twice. I consider "quickies" kid stuff, and prefer longer, more thorough (for both of us) sessions.
My partners can relax and enjoy the knowledge that she has time and total attention from all my senses, body and spirit. I've stumbled into a form of Tantra.
I concentrate not so much on "what women want" or "what women like," but on "WHAT WOMEN NEED." I bolster my confidence with what each one tells me,
and have a good foundation also in the "-ologies" (psychology, physiology, neurology, sociology, anthropology, etc.) and evolutionary theories.
In brief relationships, I have always used condoms, not only to avoid disease and pregnancy, but also to hide my scars to prevent distraction. By the time I trust a partner well enough to reject the condom and explain the scars, my partners consistently say I'm fine. Some have even said my scars are sexy!
Now obviously I'm heterosexual. But the habits and practices I've acquired so painfully can apply to anyone, any gender, and even people with enormous sexual insecurities like mine were with the hypospadias experience
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So much for the main reason I began the thread on genital surgery and hypospadias. Much of the history behind it lies mistakenly in the excellent thread on "Botched Circumcision" thread.
It is good to have cleared my head some, but I hope others can find something helpful, maybe to detect a little boy's terror, and give him some assurance about his SECRET.
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