It’s common knowledge that alcohol can impair one’s judgment. Since I am not immune from its effects, I have made it a policy not to pick up women in bars. Sure, there were a few times in college when I violated this rule, but I have adhered to this operational strategy as an adult. Who wants a terrifying surprise in the morning? What would the neighbors say? "Did you see who walked out of Sid’s house this morning? He must have really tied one on last night. Ouch!"
That being said, I am not beyond meeting a woman at a bar and establishing a friendship with her. If I get to know her well enough over the course of time, I see no problem with asking her out. That way, the possibility of contracting "coyote arm" is mitigated if not totally eliminated.
(Just in case you are unfamiliar with the concept, "coyote arm" is the condition whereby you wake up in the morning unable to extricate your arm from under an ugly woman. You are so horrified that you are willing to do anything to get away, just as a coyote will chew through his own leg to escape a steel trap.)
There is another major reason why I avoid picking up women in bars. Beyond Forrest Gump’s idiotic philosophy which states that "life is box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get," e.g., STD’s, insane stalkers, manic depressives and the occasional transsexual, I just like to go out to have a good time. If I am worrying about getting laid, I lose sight of my main objective, which is to relax and have fun. Not for a moment do I miss the stress of the disco era when I was 20 years old and worrying about who might go home with me on a given night.
So, I was out and about one Wednesday night, listening to the pulsating beats of Latin music at the Noche Lounge, when a beautiful woman walked up to me and said: "Hi, Sid. Do you remember me?" Frankly, and regrettably, I did not. "It’s me, Laura, Ann’s younger sister."
Ann was a high school girlfriend from when I was a mere lad of 16. According to Laura, Ann still hated me for dumping her. At the time, Laura was just a girl of 9 or 10. I never even noticed her back then. Standing before me at Noche, it was obvious she had grown up. Quite nicely too. Very nicely!
I enjoyed catching up with Laura. She was smart, pretty and delightful. I learned that she had dated my younger brother years ago. No wonder we call Albany - Smallbany!
(As a side note, there are a number of things I don’t know about my younger brother, six years my junior, especially from his early teen years when I was in college. When he was just 16, he fell off a cliff in Israel, suffering a severe head injury. Although he survived the fall, he no longer can walk or talk. His cognitive abilities are somewhat impaired, but he is aware of what’s going on around him and recognizes everyone. He knows more than we think. After spending over a year hospitalized in Israel, he returned to the States. He has been living in a local nursing home for many years.)
When Noche first opened, it was the hottest new club in Albany, and a club unlike anything Albany had ever seen before. It was actually hip. So hip, in fact, that I had a book signing there. Latin night, held every Wednesday, is my favorite night. I love the music and the gyrations of the sexy Dominican and Puerto Rican girls dancing to the pulsating Salsa beat. As Shakira sings, the hips don’t lie. Saturday night was the best night for gringos. It was also Laura’s favorite night. Although I would visit Noche on an occasional Saturday night, I primarily made a Wednesday appearance. As a result, I saw Laura infrequently. Still, anytime I saw her, it was a pleasant experience. We enjoyed chatting with each other, evidencing a natural rapport. Little by little, I learned more about her. I knew she was divorced, but wasn’t quite sure if she had a boyfriend. After all, at a busy club, there is always a posse of suitors around a beautiful woman. Laura handled the attention very well. I admired how she could keep all of them smiling and engaged, not unlike Scarlett O’Hara in "Gone with the Wind."
Although we flirted a bit, I had a hard time reading whether or not Laura was interested in dating me. That aura of mystery, however, only enhanced my attraction to her. Who doesn’t like a little mystery?
Whenever I bumped into Laura, our conversations often centered around our school days. I had dated her sister, she my younger brother. Although she was seven years my junior, we both attended the same small private school, so we both knew a lot of the same students and teachers.
Over time, I developed a deep attraction to Laura. At some point I broached the subject of dating with her. Initially, she balked. She said it would be weird because I had dated her sister. I reminded her that was over thirty years ago. Still, she hesitated. Nevertheless, I sensed she was at least considering the possibility.
A chance encounter convinced Laura to go out with me. It was a Monday night at Justin’s, a fine dining establishment known for its nightly jazz and Monday night piano bar. I asked Nate, the piano player, if I could sing a song. I rose and took my place on the small stage. Laura was sitting by herself at a table in the middle of the room, sipping on a martini. Since Albany is the capital of New York State, many people who work here are associated with the government or involved in politics. Laura was a political creature and knew many of the state politicians personally. Before I began my song, I made a small introduction. I dedicated the song to the leaders of New York State government, especially to Senate Majority leader Joe Bruno, a Republican and local politician about whom Laura and I had previous discussions. I made a few humorous remarks, and then on cue, Nate started to play my slow and comical rendition of "If I Only Had a Brain." When the music stopped and I looked up at the audience, I saw Laura flashing a wide grin.
Many things in life have unintended consequences. I mentioned earlier that my brother had fallen from a cliff and was head-injured. His nursing home is located about a half hour from where I live. It happens to be very close to Laura’s house. During the month of January, while my parents are out of town, I go to my brother every day to check up on him. Laura learned about this in conversation and invited me to her home for a drink one night after I was done visiting my brother. I took her up on the offer, of course, and stopped by on a weeknight. We had a delightful chat and made dinner plans for the weekend. I was excited.
Dinner reservations at an upscale eatery were made. I even bought some new clothes for the occasion. I wanted to look my best. I needed some new clothes anyway. Most of my wardrobe consisted of suits that made me look lawyerly. I was a lawyer, after all.
The afternoon of our date, I received a good omen (at least I took it as one). Laura asked me to pick her up. I considered her request favorably because it meant that I would have to take her home again, even though we lived in different directions from the restaurant. She clearly wanted me to go out of my way for her, and I was prepared to do just that. In other words, she created the possibility that I would go home with more than just a thank you and goodbye after dessert.
Excited and full of anticipation, I dressed in my new clothes and set off to pick up Laura. As she opened the door to her home, she greeted me with a warm hug and a wet kiss. More positive omens!
There was some time before we had to go to the restaurant., so Laura fixed us cocktails. Although I felt very comfortable in her home, I kept wondering if there was a chance that our relationship might develop into something more serious. I went through the pros and cons as we sipped our drinks and maneuvered our way past the initial mundane chitchat - how was your day, how was work, etc. I sensed that she was thinking the same thing I was. Before long, it was time to go.
Albany is not a big city, but it does have its charms. We even have some excellent restaurants. Laura chose one of Albany’s finest eateries, and, one of the most expensive. At least it had valet parking. Thank G-d I tidied up my Civic before I left home. Don’t you love dating?
As it turned out, Laura took me to a restaurant which can only be described as her home turf. Not only did she know the entire staff, not only did the chef come out to say hello and greet her with a kiss, she also knew quite a few of the patrons. Home court advantage can have different meanings on a date. First and foremost, it meant that Laura would feel comfortable. I assumed she was curious to find out if I would feel comfortable as well. In fact, I did. She introduced me to the staff who were all very pleasant. I even met some of her acquaintances who were having cocktails at the bar. She was showing me off! Or testing me, depending on how you perceive it. Whatever her actual motivations were, I viewed it in a positive light. If I received a passing grade, then I knew things would go well for us. If her friends thought I was cute and charming, the result would be the same.
Dinner went very well. My tequila cocktails were concocted to my satisfaction. The food was fabulous. Laura and I enjoyed great conversation and many laughs. I was very happy. This was a great date. I was even prepared for the sticker shock, having already seen the prices on the menu. In short, I had no complaints.
Since it was a weekend night, Laura didn’t want to go home right after dinner. She suggested we stop at Noche for a cocktail, which, conveniently enough, is in the same direction as her house.
Noche is a place Laura and I have in common. It is home turf for the two of us, a place where we both know a lot of people, including the staff and owners. On one hand, it made sense for us to go there for one more cocktail before heading back to her house. Quite simply, we both like it. On the other hand, and I always love the fact that there is another hand, it would be obvious to the staff that Laura and I had been out together. That fact led me to believe that Laura was not at all embarrassed by our date. I concluded that, in fact, she was comfortable with letting others know we were together that night. And, as I ordered drinks, I got a wink and a nod from Jen, the bartender. Things were progressing smoothly!
I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t a bit anxious to leave Noche and get on with my night. I had one thing in mind at that point and was ready to get back to Laura’s house. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait longer than it took for us to finish our drinks. With a last sip, Laura and I left and headed north toward her house.
As confident as I was that Laura would invite me in, I try never to be presumptuous. So, I waited for an invitation. It came as soon as I pulled alongside the curb.
Spending time with Laura is a bit like a chess match. She is calculating. This approach to life stems from the nature of her job, which requires her to think carefully before she speaks or acts. As a consequence, she is less spontaneous than other women I have encountered. On the other hand, once she has made a decision, she is sure it’s the correct one. As I sat in her living room, drink in hand, I could see the wheels turning in her head. She was thinking what I was thinking. It was time to check out her bedroom.
Laura took my hand and led me upstairs. The passion was about to begin. And yes, I was excited.
I suppose you are expecting the details of what occurred next. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am not writing erotica. However, there is one detail I must share. For the first time in my natural born life, I could not, how should I put this, get hard. I was in totally unknown territory. I had no idea what to think. I was embarrassed and worried that Laura would think I wasn’t attracted to her. In a word, I was mortified. No way this could be happening to Sid Stein!
To her credit, Laura was very kind and understanding. I wasn’t able to offer her any reason for my condition because I really didn’t understand why it happened. Sure, there have been times when I was not turned on by a woman, or simply too tired or not in the mood, but such was not the case. Almost worse than my inability to get an erection was the overwhelming feeling that came next. I felt sheepish. It was nauseating.
Oh dear readers, don’t think I gave up so easily. I tried and tried but to no avail. At some point, I concluded there was no use in trying harder. It just refused to get hard. What I hoped to be the climax to a beautiful evening, one that I had looked forward to with great anticipation, was, in fact, anticlimactic.
On my way home (there was no point in staying longer), I battled feelings of overwhelming inadequacy. Trust me when I say that my ego was under mortal attack. And, if you want to believe anything, I have a big ego.
I convened an emergency session of the Sid Stein Security Council. I sounded battle stations. In post-9/11 terms, I was in the red zone of "severe risk of terrorist attack" mode. I called for a complete mobilization of all available resources. In other words, I was clueless.
To say that I moped would be a gross understatement. I really wanted to enjoy Laura to the fullest extent possible. To be accurate, she’s quite a woman.
I tried my best to get on with my life, but I had this cloud of inadequacy hanging over me. I thought it would be best to try to live life normally. I thought that this must be a temporary condition. Still, I needed answers. I certainly did not want it to happen again.
As fortune would have it, I ran into a friend of my father at a downtown bar. Brad was a very manly man. Tall, athletic, and a lady-killer. I wondered if this had ever happened to him. If it had, then I would be able to deal with it much better. Just so you know, I am not a person who easily discusses intimate details of my sex life with other men, let alone my sexual failings. Maybe you are thinking I am being ridiculous, but in truth, it’s a lot easier blogging these moments than admitting to them in person.
Brad had two words for me - whiskey dick. Although he wouldn’t say that it had ever happened to him, he gave me an out. Perhaps I had too much to drink that night.
Not satisfied with Brad’s answer, I sought out a second opinion from a woman friend in whom I felt comfortable confiding about my personal life. She suggested something quite sweet. She posited that perhaps I was very nervous because I really liked Laura. I wondered if this was possible. Sure, I liked Laura a lot. I was willing to entertain the possibility that I felt something more than just simple lust. On the other hand, why would my genitals lose their cunning for this reason?
After obsessing over my problem for a few days, I concluded that no matter what the reason, two things were clear. I wanted to see Laura again and no way was I going to let this happen to me again. So, I did what countless television ads dictated me to do. I called my doctor and made an appointment. I told the receptionist it was urgent. Well, in these days of managed care, I was informed that if I wanted to get into the office quickly, I could see the doctor’s physician’s assistant, or wait until the following week to see the doctor. Although the PA could write a prescription, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see him. He had already misdiagnosed me once for a prior condition. He is also very conservative and more reluctant to prescribe something I might not need. I told the receptionist I would call her right back.
I immediately phoned Laura. If she agreed to go out with me, and wanted to go out that very weekend, it meant I would have to see the PA. I begged her forgiveness and indulgence and asked her out again. She consented to see me, but already had plans for the weekend. She said she would be happy to see me the following Saturday night. That meant I could wait to see the doctor. I was confident he would let me give Viagra a try.
I felt relieved. Even though I was worried about my manhood, I had a positive attitude when I woke up on the day of my doctor’s appointment. I didn’t want to disappoint Laura again and now I would be fully armed and ready.
As I said, there are many things in life which have unintended and unanticipated consequences. I should have known something was coming as soon as I logged onto my computer as I sipped my morning coffee. Although I don’t know how they got my email address, AARP had a message waiting for me. Oh boy! I am not even 50 yet! On the subject of waiting, however, sitting for a long time in my doctor’s waiting room was not unanticipated. It’s what came after.
As I expected, my doctor was very understanding. I told him my story and he listened with interest and concern. It may have been feigned, but I appreciated his effort anyway. He was generous with his time and explained that there could be many reasons why I was unable to perform that night. Erectile dysfunction was only one such possibility. Still, there is a reason why my doctor is my doctor. He understands the workings of the mind and the power of suggestion. Even if I didn’t have E.D., the idea was already planted in my head. So, my doctor made a deal with me. He would write the prescription for Viagra if I would agree to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. He told me that it would be a wise procedure for someone my age. My AGE! JEEZUS! Reality was sinking in. Talk about unanticipated consequences. Suddenly, Brad’s "whiskey dick" theory gained credence. Still, I wasn’t going to take any chances with Laura. I agreed to my doctor’s terms and left with the prescription I sought. http://www.viagra.com
Although I didn’t wear a disguise when I went to the pharmacy, I did wear a baseball cap and sunglasses. I picked up a multivitamin along with the Viagra. And, I went back to the gym and started working out again. More fruits and vegetables too! I wasn’t taking any chances.
For the big date, I chose a Japanese restaurant. Sushi was satisfying and never made me feel too full. I was always ready for action after some raw fish. Laura seemed pleased with my suggestion.
I felt confident. I was back out with Laura. I was armed with Viagra. Nothing could go wrong. I ordered sake - cold and unfiltered! I ordered some spicy stuffed octopus. There is nothing sexier at a Japanese restaurant than some spicy stuffed octopus. It drives the women wild. The conversation sparkled and the sake flowed. We were having a great time. I couldn’t wait to leave. I popped the Viagra.
I invited Laura back to my house after dinner. Why not go with home court advantage this time? She consented. I smiled inside. I would have smiled on the outside too but I thought it necessary to look cool considering past circumstances.
We got back to my house and I offered Laura a cocktail. I had no fear. I had Viagra. I put on some romantic music. We sipped our drinks and flirted. I grabbed her hand, pulled her up and danced to a slow jazz song. Bill Evans, if I remember correctly. Since we were already on our feet, I saw no problem leading Laura to my bedroom.
If I may, I would like to say a word about my bedroom as it relates to the topic of interior decorating. Throughout my marriage, I always deferred to my wife when it came to choosing interior decorating schemes. One of her favorite stores was Bed, Bath and Beyond, and who could blame her? It’s a great store. And they are always sending those 20% off coupons. In retrospect, maybe I should have insisted on having more input on the decor of the house, but like many men, I fell into stereotypical patterns. After the divorce, though, I had to make my own decisions. Since any choice would reflect solely on me, I took the issue of interior decorating quite seriously, especially when it came to my bedroom. I wanted to create an atmosphere in which a woman would feel comfortable. I also wanted to impress her with my tastes. So when it came to choosing a color scheme for my bedroom, I decided on a monochromatic theme. Chocolate! Show me a woman who does not love chocolate and I will show you a woman with testicles.
Laura complimented me on my bedroom as we fell upon my bed. Friends, things were perfect this time. Viagra works! A miracle drug! Laura was happy. I was happy. My chocolate comforter was happy. After a couple hours or so of lovemaking, however, there was trouble in paradise. I am sure you have heard the commercials - "if your erection lasts longer than four hours, call your doctor immediately."
Commercials are great, but it was close to 2 a.m. No way could I call my doctor at 2 a.m. on a Saturday night. The commercial doesn’t tell you what to do if your doctor is sleeping. I made a mental note to contact Pfizer. I confessed to Laura that I took Viagra. It was probably apparent to her anyway. At first, Laura and I just laughed. Last time, I couldn’t get it up. Now, I couldn’t get it to go away. We tried some more sex. It didn’t help. I recalled what Brad had said about the phenomenon of "whiskey dick." I returned to the liquor cabinet and fixed myself a stiff one (pun intended). I tried Laura again. Then more alcohol. Nothing was helping.
I live close to a nice Catholic hospital. The same hospital where my girls were born. Not knowing what else to do, I decided I had to go to the emergency room. It was an emergency, after all. In no condition to drive after my failed attempt to simulate "whiskey dick," I asked Laura if she could drive stick. She could. I grabbed a raincoat to cover my condition and off we went. http://www.stpetershealthcare.org/stpeters.cfm?ID=217
I staggered into the emergency room. I am sure I was quite the sight. Disheveled hair from hours of lovemaking and garbed in a raincoat on a rain-free day. I approached the triage nurse who sat behind a thick glass window. She asked me what my problem was. I could have chosen my words better, but I was sloshed. This is how I responded - "I have a hard-on that I can’t get rid of." The nurse said - "just a minute, please."
The nurse exited the safety of her cubicle and disappeared into the emergency room. She emerged a few minutes later through the double doors of the ER, accompanied by a police officer. As soon as I saw Officer Fish, my heart sank. Officer Fish and I have a history. Back in my lawyer days, I once humiliated him on cross-examination during a trial of a traffic case. My cross elicited laughter from the judge and the others in the court room. In my inebriated state, I tried to explain to Officer Fish about the Viagra. He wasn’t listening. He arrested me for public intoxication and indecent exposure. Yes, I neglected to share a minor detail with you. I opened my raincoat for the triage nurse. I made another mental note. "Drink responsibly" apparently applies to more situations than just driving a car.
Tax dollars at work, I got a ride to Division 2 headquarters. I was booked, fingerprinted and photographed. The stress of the situation had no effect on my erection. Maybe I should have taken just one Viagra.
A word about Laura. She didn’t abandon me in my time of need. She drove me home from the police station. She was really great.I was issued an appearance ticket for 8 a.m. that morning in Police Court. Local author and attorney Sid Stein was to be arraigned on charges of public intoxication and indecent exposure. I wondered how many of my colleagues would be present in court. Oh man! The horror!
Raincoat-clad, I made my way to Police Court. Apparently, I was a case of interest. As I signed in, I was received with snickers and whispering among the court personnel. Fortunately, I only recognized one lawyer, a cute Latina who worked as a public defender. She winked at me. I gave her a pleading look. "Please don’t tell anyone about this at Latin night at Noche." I think she understood.
They called my case right away. Judge Garland’s booming voice resounded throughout the courtroom. Great! I approached the bench. The judge read the charges and asked me how I pled. "Your honor, if I may say a few words, please. I am an attorney." Judge Garland indulged me. I told him about the Viagra, how it was too late to call my doctor, how I hoped that alcohol might reverse the effect, how I got a ride to the hospital, etc., etc. He listened with interest. He was also smiling. It was awful. I finished my shpiel and waited for Judge Garland to say something. Then he said: "Everyone in chambers, right now." My immediate reaction was one of relief. At least my humiliation would continue in semi-privacy.
We walked into the judge’s chambers. "Let’s see this condition," the judge ordered. Reluctantly, I opened my raincoat. There was a moment of silence. Then the judge laughed, "You call that an erection? Case dismissed!" I was lucky that day. Lucky that I had drawn Albany’s first black Police Court judge. With that, my erection subsided.
