guide to getting it on by paul joannides

Obviously when you’re uninitiated, the mysteries of coitus seem profound and alluring and even more confusing than after one has it. It’s hard to describe the impact of the book, but it was deep and vast. Many were the sunny afternoons wiled away with brownies, iced tea, and Paul Joannides’s book. Well before my bar mitzvah and before I had ever seen a naked woman-let alone been invited to touch one-I was well-versed in the techniques of kissing, cunnilingus, the ideal angles of blowjobs, and the soapy pleasure of shower masturbation. The women in those pictures always seemed like down-to-party waitresses and the men were as handsome as they were dopey.Īt 671 pages with chapters like “Balls, Balls, Balls,” “Sunsets, Orgasms, and Hand Grenades,” and Birth Control & Gnarly Sex Terms,” the Guide was the secular and sexy version of the Talmud I studied on Saturdays.

The book, which I gather now was then in its second edition, had on its cover a man and a woman kissing in the style that I can only describe “hair salon art.” You know, the kind of images that adorn the walls of the salons where your mother went and that smelled like cigarettes and burnt hair. The last of those came from a thick paperback book called The Guide to Getting It On, by Paul Joannides, Psy D. I remember a few things from those hours: the sense of accomplishment at naming all the writers on the mural, the dense chocolate texture of the brownie, the loneliness, and learning about handjobs.

Mine was on Old York Road in Jenkintown, Pennsylvania, kitty-corner to a Saturn dealership and next to a Chili’s.

Like many young men of the suburbs who grew up in the ’90s without a strong cohort of friends, I spent large portions of my youth at the cafe in my local Barnes and Noble.

Guide to getting it on by paul joannides