16. Spanking The Monkey

There are all kinds of ways to look at things, Uncle Brian likes to point out whenever he gets the chance. One of his ways of coping with his wife’s untimely death (what death isn’t untimely?) was to submerge himself in a torrent of Self-Help books (I think Dad turned him on to them) – and he’s been talking like one ever since. He even knows all the words to Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life, and sings it whenever he downs enough Dutch Courage.

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‘That glass of orange juice you think of as half empty,’ he told me over breakfast one morning at the end of his last visit, ‘I think of as half full.’ The radio must have been playing at the time, as I recall Phil Lynott singing the lines: This boy is cracking up, this boy has broken down.
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Sure, I thought, the glass is half full… but it’s also half empty – has to be for it to be half full, right? How does saying you only recognise one view and not the other make sense? Maybe I was being cynical. Okay. Maybe I should try and do what he suggested and alter my perspective. Create a new paradigm, as it were.
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Stand up on desk for a fresh look at things…
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And here’s another way I can look at the picture: Maybe it’s not me who’s defective in the timing-department – maybe it’s that all the other guys in my class have the problem, like they’re premature or something. Or maybe, and a lot more likely, they’re just beating their chests and boasting, lying through their teeth. Probably, for most of them anyway, beating their meat is as far as they’ve gone and everything beyond lives only in their dreams. Wet ones, no doubt.
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If I had to be one or the other, I’d choose being late than late any day: not being premature can only be a good thing, right?
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Another of Mom’s sayings comes into my head: The truth is never black and white – and there are many shades of grey. Her sayings were always right I continue to discover, so the truth about my predicament probably lies somewhere in between.
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As for last night’s sheet-soaking stint, it’s hard to know how or what I feel: reference points, at best, are limited and vague. One thought, however, keeps surfacing above all others, in a voice deep and rich and alive with inflections, and totally unlike my own. 
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Let it be the first of many.
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My own voice, curious and quiet: Why?
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Beats spanking the monkey.
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Why?
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Because, unlike spanking the monkey, it’s a Guilt-Free act. Free of morose afterthought and the frenzied checking for hairs on palms even though you know it’s just an old wives’ tale. Beats doing drugs, too - free of charge and all the nasty little side effects, like the loss of…

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Whatever.
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‘You think your feelings choose you?’ UB inquired after pouring his half-full glass of juice down his throat. ‘Doesn’t always have to be that way, you know. You can choose your feelings if you want. A man sings because he’s happy. Another man is happy because he sings. Get my drift?’

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I thought I did.

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So how do I choose to feel right now, about last night’s eruption and all? Good. I feel good about it. And I don’t feel Guilty. Why should I? I mean, a guy can’t help what he dreams about, right? So, why should I feel bad about feeling good? I had sex with RF – and, even though it was only in a dream – it was out-of-this-fucking-world! Literally.

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Sincerely. If the real thing turns out better than this, well… all I can say is (in a James Stewart voice) It’s a Wonderful Life. (Wonder if he actually said that, or was it just the name of the movie? Note: Watch it again. Don’t wait until I’m feeling suicidal. Hi ho.)

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Wonder if…

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… I am still technically a virgin

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… I can will Rachel to tiptoe into my dreams

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… she will enlighten me again tonight.

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I will you, Rachel. So, will you?

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These dreams of you, so real and so true.