One of the most common ways to lose a reader's interest is by making gratuitously prurient appeals to their curiosity. Or by writing about sex.
If that doesn't drive them off, try pictures.
I don't know what it is about sex that people find so boring, but even my therapist changes the subject when I try to talk about it, so I'm guessing most people think about doing the fucking in the same way they think about doing the laundry- you feel better afterwards, but geez, what a boring chore, right?.
I think I must find it interesting simply because so much of it is new to me.
I didn't exactly mark the date on my calendar, but I think I gave up on the fucking either during my third or fourth year of cocaine abuse or it maybe it was during my first year of snorting heroin...all I know is that something that had once been very important to me had become irrelevant, if not impossible. And it stayed that way for a long, long time.
But before my gear started failing there were more than a few incidents that left me wondering if I was a truly horrible person. I mean, I was a hardcore drug-addict/alcoholic criminal living the rock-n-roll club life, but I was still a good person , right? My eight-balls always weighed out, and hey man, sorry about last time. I slept with my best friend's girlfriend more than a few times among other things, but I was still a good person, eh? Please ?
If you are a young man and your dick stops working for an extended period of time- months, not days- there is probably something else wrong with you. Like maybe you've been drunk for ten years longer than anyone should stay drunk. That was me in any case and eventually alcoholic withdrawal landed me in ER for a surgical holiday. Luckily I was in a coma for the worst of it, but when I was released I was pretty shaky emotionally, plus I was morbidly obese and dangerously hypertensive and that combination is pretty much a buzz-kill for sexiness.
A hundred years or so passed and I was finally in shape again and eventually I met a woman who felt like doing the fucking with me, the only problem was her boyfriend. She didn't care so much about that as I did- I had made up my mind that I would never again mess with 'taken' women.
A hundred years after that, my woman-friend broke up with her boyfriend and we finally got the chance to do some of the fucking. Let me tell you- that fucking stuff is a whole lot of fun, I kid you not. I don't know why it gets such a bad rep in our society or why no one ever mentions it. You'd think there'd at least be movies about the fucking, or a website- or something. Anything.
For quite a while I managed to keep my promise and restrain myself from doing the fucking with any married women.
My misguided adherence to a fragment of chivalric code led to a heartbreak that unsettled me much more than I knew- than I know, I'm still in therapy, after all- and led to some ill-considered retaliation by sexual proxy. Why should I say 'no' just because of some stupid vow that I never took, right?
That thing is there for the taking and if you don't take it, some other dude who isn't so squeamish will.
So do it, said-the-devil-on-my-shoulder. Twisted my poor arm, he did.
Let me put it like this: if I am traveling and I have known you for less than an hour and you manage to work your husband's impotence into a discussion about the pasta we are sharing, I'm going to use a rigid baguette for emphasis when I invite you back to my hotel room to do the fucking.
When you tell me you have to go to your car first, I will assume that you are actually bailing out through the back exit, so don't mind my look of surprise when you return fifteen minutes later, carrying a gym bag.
My uncle is only "allowed" to listen to Sports Radio when he is in his car sans aunt, so maybe men think the fucking is boring and confusing in the same way women think NFL Football is dull and stupid, and women keep their whips and cuffs hidden so their men don't go narcoleptic or die of boredom. I must be easily amused , because I'm feeling sorta enthusiastic and my demonstration of that enthusiasm is making you smile beautifully, so maybe I'm not such a bad guy after all. Or at least not totally boring.
The next day lunch is skipped and it is back to the hotel for some more of the fucking. I make a joke that we are a couple of whores because we are on-the-clock, getting paid to do the fucking.
Ooops. You want me to call you that again? And again? Sure. Not a problem...but...what comes next, uh, uh. Not doing that. Nope.
Next : Resolve is for losers.