When I was younger my penis would get stiff at any time and for any reason. Like most people, I would look at someone and get aroused even if I wasn't attracted to them. I would also look at the latest Jaguar car and get hard just walking down the street. I even remember going into Bamberger’s in Newark, now it's Macy's, and having to leave the furniture department because I could no longer hide the woody that had become too prominent. It was the early 80's and baggy pants weren't really what men of my age were wearing then.
I would get up each and every morning and I would find myself looking at Little Jimmy looking right back up at me. We would stare at each other, man to man, eye to eye so to speak. It was a glorious sight. It made me feel like a line from a James Brown song, “I’m black and I’m proud.” Some people would ridicule me, but I enjoyed it. It was a sign that we were both alert and that we both knew we were alive.
Then about two years ago, I started to realize that I no longer got excited for no reason at all. The morning ritual had disappeared. In fact, I started having to be mentally aroused in order for me to become physically aroused. That was something new. Spontaneous and automatic hard-ons were now something that I had to work at. True, I no longer was worried about being embarrassed any more by walking around with a boner, but I wasn't sure I liked it.
I know that, or at least I think I am not a real candidate for a batch of Viagra or Cialis but when I do think about it, it becomes worrisome and doesn’t help me enjoy the moment whenever that moment occurs. I bring this up because recently I was asked to go to a gathering by the Philly Jacks. The Philly Jacks is an organization that manages these parties in Center City Philadelphia, where men of a certain sexual persuasion or interest get together on certain days of the week or month and strip naked and masturbate together. They do the kind of thing that boys, when I was 10 or 11, used to do when they found out about the pleasures of ejaculation.
Now I’m not really the sexual prude that I sometimes tend to be. Neither am I as bigoted as will seem to be now, but there is a reason why people are allowed to have their preferences and the idea of attending a gathering like that didn’t really appeal to me. I could see myself being one of two or three black men being surrounded by and being touched by overweight, out of shape older white men trying to get “jiggy” with the nigger in the corner before they returned to their alabaster skinned wives in Northeast Philly.
I know, trust me I know that the whole reason for attending an event run by the Philly Jacks is about getting a cheap, possibly safe but meaningless sexual outlet without getting involved, but would I really want to walk around dodging people, watching myself not being aroused and maybe even shrinking minute by minute for the 10 or $20 fee that they charge? I don’t think so.
Well, let me think about it some more, maybe it's time for a change.