How I know I’m great in bed

On Saturday night, I went on a date with the most gorgeous woman I know. 'I want to go to bed,' I said. 'Oh!' she replied.


I’m great in bed.

And that claim has nothing to do with macho arrogance. After this past week it is just the sad, middle-aged truth.

Last week, I developed a middle ear infection and since then, I wake up every night with a pounding head, a face numbed by pain and vertigo, which would have been hilarious if it was Snapdragon who suffered from it.

On Saturday night, I went on a date with the most gorgeous woman I know. I wore a suit, but spoilt the effect by sweating and panting the entire evening like a pervert.

“What do you want to do now?” she asked when we got home.

“I want to go to bed,” I said.

“Oh!” she replied.

And then I disappeared under the duvet and only reappeared at 10.30 the next morning.

I recognised the symptoms immediately.

I had it four years ago and was sure it was either a tumour or my brain that was growing too big for my skull.

It wasn’t.

Early this week, I went to see the doctor – a different one.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Which is ironic, because I don’t pay him a fortune to tell me to diagnose my own health issues.

“I wish I could tell you it was an axe wound or an old war injury, but it is far less manly than that. I have a middle ear infection,” I told him.

“I think you’re right,” he said after he looked into my ears with one of those lovely shiny toys doctors play with. “It’s not an axe wound.”

Everyone’s a joker nowadays.

And then he prescribed a huge bag full of medicines and told me to get a lot of rest.

Not that I had a choice. The potent muti, combined with the lack of sleep over the past nights, knocked me out cold. I think the past few days I spent at least 18 out of 24 hours somewhere between being asleep and not being awake.

I only woke up every two hours to go to the bathroom and smoke a cigarette before returning to the drug-induced comfort of my duvet. And on the way to my smoking spot on the stoep, I walked into walls and door frames on several occasions.

And that’s why I can confess, dear reader, I’m great in bed. But out of bed … not so much.

Dirk Lotriet. Picture: Alaister Russell

For more news your way, download The Citizen’s app for iOS and Android.

Read more on these topics

Columns

Access premium news and stories

Access to the top content, vouchers and other member only benefits