Is that a TENT POLE in your pants?

If you are sexually repressed or overly sensitive, please do not read on. Because I am now going to talk to you about hard-ons. That ubiquitously male tent pole in the pants that can at once be a source of shame or a badge of honor, depending on the age in which it occurs.

The thing about a hard-on is it can happen at any time. It’s uncontrollable and sudden. And it’s a beacon that ultimately points to one thing — and one thing only — regardless of sexual orientation.

Now when you are male and come down with the big C, the part of the body that must be attacked to save your life is beside the point. But once said cancer is duly disposed of, it could be that your life is irrevocably altered if you’ve had giant lasers and surgeon scalpels pointed at your nether regions.

You see where I’m going with this. Now, enter VIAGRA (or any of those other tiny male miracle pills that fill our inboxes daily with spam). I don’t know about you, but I am HIGHLY unlikely to take these mysterious offerers of HOT SEXY FREEDOM up on their drugs that come from GODKNOWSWHERE. This is, of course, beside the point, but...

Instead, I delete the emails like a daily plague while saying a silent prayer of gratitude that these pills exist in such abundance. Here’s why.

For more years than I can count, I’ve been among those hoards of women who pretend to be asleep. Who inwardly go concave when — TURNS OUT — I was about to be the recipient of a nice, big INNOCENT bear hug with no underlying innuendo.

You all know these women. We’re at your girls’ nights, your book clubs, your PTO meetings, on your Facebook and at your dinner tables. We’ve been finishing college and grad school as hot little willing participants. But then we started those long days of corporate desk or travel slogdom. Bringing home the bacon too while taking our temperatures and saying, “NOW.” Then came the ultimate juggling act. Big time career coupled with those little birdies crowding up the nest with their sweet little mouths waiting for the worm.

So those UPALLNIGHT worm-providing through our once ample — and much ogled — breasts episodes, followed by the days of trying to be A WOMAN OF THE 00s began to take it’s toll. Some of us quit to focus on the birdies and TO STOP BURNING THAT DAMNABLE CANDLE AT BOTH ENDS. Some of us kept up the good fight. And some of us channeled our creative juices into a side business that we run after the birdies are roosted for the night and you are in your birthday suit pitching a tent in the sheets and waiting for us to return to you.

About the time of a second wind called ELEMENTARY SCHOOL (and a little thing called completely unfair and poorly-timed hormones), you might be ready to go back to rock-n-roll queen-dom. Patently unfair if you happen to have a partner with the BIG C.
Luckily, some mad scientist — who I’m guessing was not female (just sayin’) — uncovered the secret formula for loving forever. (I think Hugh Hefner was behind it all.)

So if you’re 40-something and just trying to survive the madness. And if you happen to end up with a male partner with cancer, there may be hope after all.

And if — after a few months of religious pill use — he wakes up one morning, reaches for your hand (awwww...) and pulls it towards his crotch beacon that is suddenly emitting a signal with no pills in sight [LOUD needle scratch], you may actually find yourself NOT feigning sleep THIS ONE TIME.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Make Some Noise. Beasties. My rhymes... age like wine as I get older. I'm getting bolder competition is waning.I got the feeling and I'm single laning.