Cycling and blowjobs

November 13, 2011 § 1 Comment

When old married guys ride together they always talk about, or at least mention sex. It may just be appreciation for a pretty woman on the strand, or the cute butt of a passing female cyclist, or the first thong of spring, or a discussion of boob jobs, or fond reminiscences about the days of pre-marriage when all we longed for was a sex partner who didn’t require a date, a movie, hard liquor, a concatenation of lies, or the awkwardness of looking at your bedmate the next day through hangover lenses. And when it comes to reminiscences, nothing brings a happier smile to the face of and old and grizzled biker than memories of blowjobs past.

There’s something about the blowjob. It’s pretty much the gold standard of sexual pleasure among married men. Not because it feels better than anything else, but because it is truly a sign of wifely devotion. Every man who’s ever gotten one has said to himself at least once, “Dang, that sure is nasty. She either really loves me or she’s going the extra mile to make me happy.” Either that, or “I hope the charge code on my VISA doesn’t show up as ‘blowjob.'”

The blowjob, in a husband’s mind, is a proxy for a wife’s devotion, in the same way that a mortgage, a fat 401k, two nice cars, Hawai’i vacations, a big-ass rock, a kickass wedding, an Ivy League education for the kids, and never having to give another fucking blowjob as long as she lives is the gold standard in a wife’s mind when evaluating her spouse.

So there we were one morning, talking about blowjobs and their incredible scarcity in our marriages. “Yeah,” Grizzled said. “Last one I got was in ’03.”

“No shit?” We answered in unison, impressed with the recency.

“Yeah.”

“What did you have to do to get it?”

“Cabinets. A full set of walnut cabinetry, custom designed and hand-built in Sweden. $25k.”

One of the guys nodded. “$25,000 per blowjob? That sounds about right. Last time I got one was when we remodeled the kitchen with all Subzeroes.”

Finally I turned to Youngster, a guy who’s been riding with us for a long time but who has only been married for a couple of years. “You’re awfully quiet. When’s the last time you got one?”

He looked at me. “Yesterday.”

We opened our eyes wide in envy. “No shit?”

“Yeah. I get ‘em whenever I want ‘em.”

“You lying fucker.”

“I swear. It’s the truth.” Turns out that his sex life post-marriage hadn’t altered a whit.

“Just you wait,” Grizzled snorted.

“Wait for what?” Youngster asked.

“Kids.”

Go blow yourself, honey

A few months later we were riding with Youngster. “Great news!” he said.

“What’s that, buddy?” I asked.

“Wife’s pregnant. We’re having a baby!”

“Dude, that’s fucking awesome. Congratulations!”

“Thanks, man. I’m so excited.”

Grizzled rode up next to him. “My condolences, pal.”

“For what? I want kids. I’m psyched.”

“Your blowjob-on-demand services just got terminated. You watch.”

For the next eight months we kept regular tabs on Youngster’s blowjobs. Every ride began with the question, and he answered every time with the smugness of the recently blown.

Then the baby came. We practically broke out in fisticuffs trying to be the first one to ask the question. He didn’t look me in the eye when I posed it. “Nah, she’s just had a kid, dude. That’s not on her mind right now.”

Grizzled laughed. “Not now, not ever, punk. Better start pricing out those walnut cabinets from Sweden.” We all laughed so fucking hard we almost ran into each other. Youngster was sour, but put on a brave face.

“You’re a bunch of cheapass stinky old turds who think that romance means a bad movie, some crappy cafe you’ve been going to since the Jurassic, and a bottle of $12 wine. That’s why you haven’t gotten a blowjob in thirty years.”

Of course we just laughed even harder.

She’s just really tired all the time

A few months into fatherhood, we no longer had the heart to keep funning with Youngster. The handwriting was on the wall. His wife really was tired all the time. She had gone back to work. He was waking up at 2 a.m., helping with the colicky baby, the shitty diapers, the demands of his job, and still trying to get in enough miles to be fit on the bike. It was obviously a stressful time, and reminding him that his blowjobs had dried up was, well, cruel. So we quit.

Of course every time I see Youngster I think about his wonderful family (two kids now), and all those blowjobs he’ll never get again. In addition to taking care of his wife and children he continues to train and race. He’s a little slower to laugh than he used to be, but he’s still one of the best people to be around, and still a monster on the bike.

I’ve seen lots of people get into cycling and become consumed with it. Not just young riders who go hard and burn out early, but older people who find in cycling a release from the stress of work, or a pathway to better health, or a forum for athletic competition, or just a place to throw away their excess cash. That all-encompassing, tingling, overwhelmingly pleasurable rush of cycling and everything related to it…that’s the blowjob.

As time goes on, though, things get complicated. Sound familiar? The bike starts to conflict with family time. The bike starts to conflict with necessary expenses. The bike also starts to reveal some ugly truths about you. You’ll never race for a pro team in Belgium. You’ll never win the KOM on the Switchbacks. You’ll never beat Meeker in any race, in any category. MMX will always beat you in ‘cross by multiple laps. G$’s times on Strava are not simply unreachable. They’re unimaginable.

It’s not about the blowjob

A lot of the new enthusiasts don’t make it past the first few years. Others adopt it as a permanent fiber of their lives. What’s the difference between them?

I think it’s the recognition that there’s a lot more to cycling than the blowjob. Although it’s awesome to feel the thrill of the bike moving through the wind, to be part of a smooth paceline, or to enjoy the friendship and camaraderie of the group ride, cycling over the long term involves a fair amount of slogging. Slogging along the same routes, slogging through shitty weather, slogging in the early hours in order to get the ride in before work, slogging in a group that’s not riding the way you want it to, slogging by yourself after getting spit out the back.

After a while it becomes a whole–the good and the bad, the boredom and the excitement, the hard work and the effortless “no chain” days. We also figure out a way to work it into our relationships so that there’s equilibrium, or we change the relationship because the bike is that important to us. Best of all, no matter how long we do it, there always seems to be a pleasant surprise when we least expect it.

I saw Youngster a couple of weeks ago, riding by himself. I u-turned and chased him down. “Hey, man,” I said.

He turned and looked at me, and, smiling slightly, said just one word. “Blowjob.”

See? Just when he least expected it. Just like on the bike.

§ One Response to Cycling and blowjobs

  • A-Tiller says:

    Ride or blowjob. Mutually exclusive activities for me these days. Similar, though. Shoot my wad doing either, and the day is done.

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