Last weekend, I was given a Viagra by one of my former coaches who is about 70 years old and, even in his earlier years, appeared in serious need of help in the bedroom. I had made the assumption soon after arriving at school that he was getting some help downstairs and so I started asking him to hook me up, thinking it would make me into some sort of superman. After nearly 10 years of begging, he bestowed a single pill upon me, advising that I would only need a half and that really the impact for me, at my age, would be gaining the ability to rebound like a seven-footer with a 45-inch…um…vertical.

Overly excited that I had in my possession a video-gameish second life, I only managed to hold on to it for four days before I chomped down on half and headed to Lois Lane’s.

To set the scene, I had never slept with this LL before… And, actually, short of some drunken texts, I had no reason to think she would even be interested. So… Not sure if I believed that Viagra would also give me some pervasive powers of persuasion that previously lay unrealized, dormant but waiting in my hypothalamus… But it didn’t.

A sad ending, I know. However, beyond the pit in my stomach, I gathered a couple key take-aways that I’d like to impart at this time to any concerned or curious comers:

First, a word of advice to anyone who might find himself in this situation – use Viagra on a guaranteed, known, one hundred and however many percent sure thing. Don’t waste it on a girl who might not go all the way, could be boring in bed, or may be interested in something other than making it an all night eff-fest. If you know you only got two tries, do some recon without the heavy artillery.

Secondly, if you are like me, you will learn that, unfortunately, you are in that group that has an adverse reaction to Viagra.

Approximately two hours after downing the pill, I got out of her bed feeling really, really, extremely, uncomfortably, agonizingly, stupid hot and needing to pee something horrible. My bladder issues proved to be the lesser of my concerns as it turned out. I had barely made it through the doorway of the bathroom when the heat I had felt in bed reached nuclear meltdown levels. My knees went out, and so did my lights, as I hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. Potatoes hopped up on Viagra.

Not sure how long I was out, but once I pulled my head through the fog and took stock of things, I realized that I no longer had a bladder issue. But I did have soaked boxers… In the name of cleanliness, I crawled into the shower but, truth be told, I didn’t care about the kidney liquid, I really just needed to let the sweet cold water rain down on me like a thunderstorm on a prairie fire. A prairie fire with a mean hardon.

Eventually, my body worked things out for itself and I toweled off and climbed back into bed with Miss L-squared, who, as best I can tell, was never the wiser.

Thirdly, and I wish my coach had told me this as well, please remember that some things are better left to the imagination.