Pant, pant, pant...

By Telemaco Signorini

Hello, welcome to the weekend Gene Pool, in which I entertain you in return for your surrendering up personal anecdotes for my use next week, on subjects chosen by me. Today’s subject is a funny sexual / romantic moment you or someone you know has lived through. I apologize for any disturbing mental images that my personal anecdote, which follows, may raise in you. All I can say in my defense is that it is true, as yours must be.

I was engaged in an intimate activity. The time and place, and the identity of the other person, are irrelevant. At the particular moment this occurred, I was not positioned such that I had visual access to the room. The lady was so positioned.

Me: Pant, pant, pant.

She: Pant, pant, pant.

Me: Pant, pant, pant.

She: Pant, pant, pant.

Dog: Pant, pant, pant.

She: The dog is now on the bed.

Me: Pant, pant, pant.

Dog: Pant, pant, pant, PANT, PANT, PANT.

She: The dog is now shitting on the bed.

Much flagrant diarrhea occurred, necessitating a swift cessation of other activities, accompanied by an overpowering odor and mutually deflating and tear-blinding laughter.

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That’s it. It’s over now. You may remove your steepled fingers from over your eyes. I have never told this story before, except to one friend, in whose brain it is eternally lodged. All I can say is, the lure of Substack cash is soul-corrupting.

Your challenge is to truthfully relate your funniest sexual / romantic moment. I will consider anything — including the non-overtly sexual — so long as “romantic” is a legit part of it. I will consider something that happened to someone you know well. I will consider something that is closer to “poignant” than funny, if funny is implied because of the poignancy. I will not consider publishing your name, even if you give it up, which you do not have to do. On your honor, though, it must be true.

Example of non-overtly sexual but still romantic: I know of a woman who had an opportunity to have a torrid sexual encounter with possibly the most eligible bachelor in The United States at the time, a handsome U.S. senator who’d discreetly sent word through an emissary, as a party was winding down, that he’d be interested in spending some time with her in his hotel suite to get to know her better. She very much wanted to, but, in her words, “I was wearing really goofy underpants,” and stammered a polite no thanks. She figured she’d have another chance — they frequented some of the same circles — but it never happened.

I also know a journalist who wrote an extravagantly romantic letter to a coworker saying how much he admired her and wanted to spend more time with her, and that he was writing this, rather than telling her in person, to give her an opportunity to ignore it without having to turn him down directly. It was many years ago. He was about 35, waay too melodramatic and waay too shy. Anyway, as he would later realize to his horror, he had accidentally put it in the wrong mail slot at work. The actual recipient of his letter — identical first name, as I recall — was about 65. Nothing was ever said by anyone to anyone about it. The journo died about 10 years later; I believe but am not certain that his death was unrelated.

Okay, that’s it. Send your stories / anecdotes here, to this sexually attractive button:

And now, today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll:

Let’s postulate that Trump loses convincingly to Harris. Under what circumstances do you think he will accept the results and not challenge them?

A: Under no circumstances, including an obvious, palpable landslide.

B: Only if it is obviously a landslide and protesting it would be transparently pathetic.

C: He’ll probably accept a clear victory. He has a future to think about.

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Okay, see you on Tuesday. Please do not upgrade your subscription to “paid.” Your affirmation and affection would embarrass me.