‘I’ve got a problem isn’t the best chat-up line’
I participated fully in the sexual revolution: a time when making love was like shaking hands and a one night stand was called “hanging out”. My sex life began under the stage at a youth club; by art college, I’d had my first threesome (with two sisters). I had also started to realise that I had a bit of a problem.
I suffered from severe premature ejaculation, which meant that most of my relationships were as short as the sex. My doubts about my ability to satisfy affected how I approached romance and I struggled to find ways to cope. The worst way was to be dismissive. After one brief incident, I remember getting up laughing – and being called a bastard. It was the only way I could think to avoid the usual “I’m really sorry” speech that accompanied my encounters.