The boxter wonders "I know you are a couple of years ahead of me but were you too busy helping earnie [sic] score to get laid?"

Ah, but what a difference those few years made! I put forward no extravagant claims for my personal charm, animal magnetism, boldness or powers of persuasion when I tell you that I, ah, came of age during an extraordinary window of cultural opportunity (geography may have had something to do with it as well, with a less permissive attitude likely then obtaining inland from the sunny Pacific coast) that required of a young man no recourse to guile, to argument, to eloquence, pathos, intoxicants or main force to secure regular and reliable access to nookage. A decade earlier or later, I would have had to develop the normal skills of predation, but in those salad days young women of my social class had just discovered oral contraception after a steady diet during their formative years of dire tales of ruin and disgrace attendant upon lapses of chastity; sexual emancipation was in the air and they were eager to test drive their new privileges. One had merely to be attentive to the cues; now and again, when I was insufficiently quick on the uptake, the cues were discarded and the invitations expressed with a boldness which delicacy forbids me to describe. Just a few years later many of them were disillusioned by the Pill's side effects, and some years after that the spectre of incurable STDs, including the lethal one, rather dampened the mood, but my memories of the first Nixon administration, a grim dress-rehearsal for the subsequent period of cultural reaction that has had us in its grip for a quarter of a century now, will always be in some degree ameliorated by the afterglow of those effortless couplings.

cordially,