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For the most part that was true. Back in New York, I’d go out on Friday nights after work. My office was in Manhattan. There are a million bars in the city which have Happy Hours.

My firm paid higher than the going rate for young Interior Designers, but it wasn’t enough to live in Manhattan. I lived in Brooklyn, just a subway ride away.

I was mostly unsuccessful meeting women perhaps twice my age at the Happy Hour bars near my office.

I wasn’t unsuccessful at meeting women. The sex was okay, but I wasn’t completely satisfied, even when I got laid or got a good blowjob. Some of these young women let me eat their pussy; reluctantly. “Matt, you can, but the few guys I’ve let do it, it wasn’t very good. I’d much rather have your cock in there.”

Or

“Matt, it’s our first date, let’s stick to fucking.”

Or

“Matt, I need to know a guy pretty well before I do anything oral. It’s not that I won’t or won’t let you, but not right away.” ...

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