In Which I Serve as a (Sort Of) Second Base Coach

My buddy Dee-Doh and I have known other for many years.  I've always appreciated him: his kindness, his friendship, his good common sense.  And while we were very close, we never, ever went into the friends with benefits level; mutually feeling that this would have destabilized our relationship and causing it irrepable harm.  (We did maybe lapse into being friends with minor benefits on occasion (mostly kissing!), but were pretty good about it all most of the time.) 

Let's face it: about half the population is male, and the other half if female; and we're only fooling ourselves if we assume that we know all there is about men or women.  Hey, I am not that sure about myself!  Capische?

Anyway, Dee-Doh and I were commiserating about our respective relationships at that time, and he confessed some doubt and confusion about how to know about when to proceed in the initiation of intimate acts.  I was not entirely surprised:  I once had to coach him on kissing!  Poor shy, unassuming Dee-Doh!  Guys who assume they're God's gift to women are tedious; but these sensitive, quiet guys who assume they're not good enough also have their own problems . . . .  Have other women ever wondered when they guys they were interested in would get moving, or am I the only impatient one?  I suspected that poor Dee-Doh just needed some, ah, sympathetic female encouragement.

Anyway, after much hemming and hawing, he confessed the cause of his shame: he could not work up the nerve to go to second base with the girl he was dating! 

Okay -- just a word.  This is not going to end in a torrid sex scene, however you might wish!  No, Dee-Doh was a gentleman with his copine (girl bud in French).

So why shouldn't Dee-Doh just go and do it?  It was his paralyzing uncertainty.  So, I decided to do a lesson plan with him.  The first issue was: when should he start?  Maybe by the fifth date or so.  No sooner.  That's my Plimsoll line of permissiveness there, even if it's probably a no-go with me then.  If a guy doesn't make at least a try, I begin to feel uneasy as to how he sees me.  By the tenth time, I begin to wonder about his sexual preference.  Okay, I was bending my own rules regarding second base in the case of my coaching Dee-Doh.  

The next issue, try in or out?  First try the outside, and if it's okay, then tentatively go in.  One button at a time.  Another matter, try the bottom button route.  Dee-Doh kind of got the idea although it seemed counterintuitive to him. 

Eventually, Dee-Doh went to the bra-unhooking lab: the bra secured to a chair.  Unhooking one should not be a big deal; but a guy can really blow the mood if there is a lot of awkward fumbling.  Finally, I allowed him to practice on me (with appropriate modesty in the process), and he became an adapt at the one-handed approach.

I'm amazed that you can now access videos through You Tube or other sources on this type of methodology.  Apparently, my instructional approach was outdated.

No!  Don't raise the skirt!