Sex Tips for Sextugenarians

Jeanna called last night with an update on the Brother Ted deathwatch.

Apparently he collapsed after overdosing on oxycontin in one of the marble bathrooms of the palatial Palmdale McMansion. Harvoni reduced his Hep C viral load to zero, but it takes a looooong time for those little liver cells to regenerate.

I’d found out about Ted on Facebook when Christi, Brother Dane’s hysterical wife, posted a rambling, mostly incoherent request for prayers.

“You did let Jeanna know, right?” I posted.

And within three seconds, Christi posted back: Of course, she’d called Jeanna because we are a close and loving family and we’re always laughing and praying with one another!

“Oh, right,” said Jeanna. “In fact, I think I hear some noise in my bathroom right now! Must be Christi. Laughing and praying!”

“As long as it’s not Ted ODing!” I said. “How’d she get there?”

“I dunno. Teleportation? When you laugh and pray and drink as much as Christi, you develop special powers!”

“Whose family is more into togetherness?” I asked. “Us or the Dugars?”

“I’d say we’re slightly below the Dugars but right up there with the Kennedys! But, anyway, that’s not why I called.”

Jeanna had called for sex tips! How to Make Love to a Sixty-Year-Old Man.

###

Last time I’d spoken to Jeanna on the phone was approximately six weeks ago when she called me to announce that she’d fallen in love. She hadn’t phrased it like that, though.

“I think I’m getting obsessed with this guy,” she’d said.

Disabled vet. Seventh Day Adventist.

Uh oh, I thought.

“O-kay,” I said.

They’d started out casually playing guitar together. Over time, their feelings had deepened. Cue Rhett Butler: Dare I name it? Can it be love?

“Thing is… His personal hygiene leaves something to be desired,” Jeanna told me.

“Well, that’s not good.”

“So, I told him to clean himself up. Next time I saw him, he’d taken a bath!”

“Well, that’s good,” I said.

“Thing is… I haven’t had sex with anyone in 25 years!”

“And it’s moving in that direction?”

“It’s moving in that direction.”

“Huh,” I said. “Well, one thing you need to keep in mind, Jeanna, is that having sex with a 60-year-old man is not like having sex with a 35-year-old man.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Well, there are, uh, certain lag times. And the flag may not fly as high up the pole, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh, that,” she said. “There’s no problem with that.”

“Well, that’s good, Jeanna. That’s very, very good!”

“He’s saying, ‘I guess I better put a ring on it!’”

“A ring on it? Oh, Jeanna! A Seventh Day Adventist? What if he wants you to convert?”

“So, I’ll convert!”

“Oh, Jeanna,” I said again.

So far as I could tell, there were two issues with Jeanna converting. Number One: For many years now, she’s been a devotée of Ama, the Kissing Guru. Number Two: She smokes a shitfull of dope on a daily basis. I couldn’t see even the most loving Seventh Day Adventist spouse supporting her in this choice.

“Uh – is he devout?” I asked. “Does he go to church?”

“They don’t have a church, Patty.”

Shortly thereafter the conversation ended.

###

She called last night because apparently, there is a problem with that.

“So, I don’t know, Patty. Do you think maybe he’s gay and doesn’t know it?”

“Well, I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose it’s possible. I’m more inclined to think the issues arise – or don’t arise – because he’s over 60.”

“So, have you ever –“

“Yes!” I said. “I have. And there are things you can do, techniques as it were. But they take a lot of time, and generally, it’s time I don’t want to invest unless I have a deep emotional attachment to a guy. Which these days, I rarely do. Quite frankly, it’s no skin off my ass if he can’t get it up. I can get off whether he gets an erection or not. That’s the superiority of the female anatomy!”

“But, I mean, he won’t – He says he doesn’t want to get me all hot and bothered if he can’t come through.”

“Where was this guy living before you picked him up, Jeanna? A cave?”

“Patty!”

“Just sayin’! That’s a pretty bizarre attitude. And do you have a vibrator?”

“No-o-o!”

I sigh. “Well, Jeanna, sounds to me like your Seventh Day Adventist pal doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with women if he doesn’t understand how entirely incidental an erect dick is to female sexual pleasure. Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Yes!” she said. “At least – I think, ‘Yes.’”

I sigh. “Well, of course, there are those little blue pills. Though I think little blue pills are kind of creepy.”

“I think they’re creepy, too. Besides, he has loads of medical problems.”

“Yeah. Little blue pills are not good for men with medical problems,” I said. “Well, then –“

And I launched into a lecture on blowjob techniques and simultaneous prostate massage.

“Sure you don’t want to Skype?” I asked. “I have a banana in the kitchen –“

“Patty! No! I don’t want to Skype! How did you learn this shit?”

“Combination of trial and error, and watching a lot of gay male porn,” I said. “Anyway, it works! But, as I say, it’s very time consuming. So you really have to be emotionally invested in the guy.”

“I think he’s gonna move in this week,” said Jeanna dreamily.

“Move in? Oh, Jeanna! At least, promise me you won’t marry him.”

“Why shouldn’t I marry him?” she asked.

That answer would have taken hours.

So, I just sighed again and extracted her promise: If you do decide to marry this guy, you have to invite me.

I figure by that time maybe Brother Ted will be through with his coma, and I can borrow some of his pills and drug her so she can’t go through with it --

JOKE!

I think...