Melville Cooke I WENT to get cheese balls and 87 unleaded (in that order) at one of those very expensive supermarkets parading as gas stations about two weeks ago. While at the cashier, a section of items behind her caught my attention.
And held it.
There was a packet of three brightly coloured pills that promised staying power, another goodie promised long-lasting love, there was something called a mood changer and there were a couple more, all surrounding sex, of course.
We should all be used to the rows of condoms by now, but this was something new. This was enhancement of the male performance, 99 unleaded if you will, plus a turbo start to get her in the mood without all this foreplay nonsense.
Of course, from the days of stories about 'Chiney Brush' and 'Spanish Fly', through to ginseng and the 'little blue pills' THE STAR tells us about, items to do just this are nothing new. There are those who swear by their oysters and 'Guinness and raw peanut', plus the British press informed us that we were snapping a wheat cereal off the shelf in order to, like Bob Marley, rise with the morning sun.
Yet, as I read in a survey about four years ago, two-thirds of Caribbean women are dissatisfied with their lovers. I have no reason to believe the percentage is any lower in Jamaica, or that it has changed since.
FEW FACTORS
There are quite a few factors at work here, I believe. One is the misconception that staying long is equal to doing well. Jimmy Adams found out how wrong that perception is - not that we men should be like the West Indies team of Sabina Park shame on Sunday, but stretching out an innings without keeping the scoreboard ticking along merrily and the fans jumping is a waste of batting skill.
And, quite frankly, while some may prefer off-road vehicles with reinforced undercarriages, well used to the battering and bumping of very rocky roads, each new dent being a badge of honour, I go for the delicate, high-performance variety.
Another is that men are socialised into sex from their 'bredrens', porno mags and 'blue movies'. Said bredrens and male porno stars, the former very lie and the latter very staged, are the ultimate sex machines.
THE ENHANCEMENT
A third factor is the amount of alcohol men consume. In the long run, Wray and his Nephew do not a good bed companion make. Hence the enhancement, as what goes up must come down, but may not necessarily go up again.
That's why lots of wo-men love 'young bway', who have not yet been hit so hard with the bottle as to fall weak and limp.
In addition, wherever the notion came from, we almost invariably portray sex as a competition. Wherever it came from, there is this idea pushed by popular entertainment that sex is a war and the bedroom is a battlefield. There is just one problem. For most men, it is like running a 100-metre sprint, while for women it is a 400-metre trot. And since they are both starting at the same time, the end is rather predictable, unless the gent gets her to start long before him, run past and then they both sprint for the line, chests heaving, sinews straining, eyes bulging, muscles stretched to their limit.
But that involves something called foreplay, a rather foreign concept to some. Hence the shelf at the gas station, which holds the promise of a bionic man 'slow but fast' run, where the woman will run past and burst the tape, the man gleefully bringing up the rear and trying to keep the clock going and going and going.
The funniest thing, though, is the futility of it all. For it is the inevitable fate of man in like a lion, out like a lamb.
Melville Cooke is a freelance writer.
