Embarrassing sexual problems with my Ferrari

The post title says it all. And with problems like this, I\'m told that I should confide in my closest friends. So, my dear F-chat friends, please help me. Years ago, this sad story would have started with \"I have a friend who.....\" but thanks to the anonymity of the internet and a quick sign up as a new user on Fchat, you don\'t know who I am and I can be as candid as possible, please be just as candid in your replies. Rob no doubt has my IP address now..... Rob, don\'t you dare tell anyone, I\'m genuinely embarrassed can\'t you see?

So I\'ve had a Ferrari for a very long time and was particularly young when I bought it. I sold all my other cars (all projects in varying states of repair) and was so young that I couldn\'t insure it for quite a while. I spent the long period of anticipation tweaking it in my garage to a degree that makes me ashamed of the amount of time and sleepless nights I spent under this car. And these days the car goes well - it\'s still one of my favourite Ferraris, the thrill of driving it is up there with other great cars I\'ve driven, the pleasure it gives to others (letting friends drive, taking hitchers, whatever) is a wonderful thing that comes with the car too. And I drive it ok, even if I say so myself. On seeing the redline (subtly modified to start at 8600 by repainting the dial just like the original), one car enthusiast I recently met said \"Yes, but when would you use that many revs?\".... to which I replied, \"Just before changing gear.\" And it gets driven that way. I honestly can\'t remember the last trip which involved anything less than 160 km/h and that\'s just going to the shops (I live a little way from the shops) and I genuinely believe that a regular top speed test is the only way to be sure your car is making the power it should.

So far so good, and I\'m getting to the problem - be patient, like I said, me and this car is a long-term relationship so, if you\'re going to help me, you need some background too.

If you haven\'t gathered yet, then I\'ll spell it out for you: I was a bit of a petrolhead in my younger years and like any other addict in remission, I still go to lengths to cover up the truth, somehow I self-justify my annual spend on tyres and don\'t really let on to anyone else unless they first let slip that they share the same addiction too. But I\'m ok now, really...... despite the mildly deranged driving and owning a dream car since I was little more than a kid, I turned into a pretty balanced guy. I work for myself, the hours I choose, don\'t earn a fortune but am not that turned on by money, I love gardening, mechanics, nature, dogs, philosophy, DIY, house restoration, poetry, reading, fiction, film, football, swimming, people, music, art, food, food, food, wine and...... women. Oh yeah, so here the problem starts; I\'ll give you a bit of background on that too.

I got out of a long-term relationship a few years back - a big love. Really nice girl, pretty, talented, funny, sexy and, for none of those reasons clearly, the wrong girl for me! (If you\'re reading this darling, it has nothing to do with you scaring the crap out of me in the wet in the Quattro, nor the ensuing argument, ok ?). We\'re still on good terms somehow. And after that was all over, I got involved with a breathtakingly attractive woman who taught me all I want to know about borderline personality, malice, identity theft, stalking and restraining orders. At the height of what I hope turns out to be the most turbulent period in my life, one particularly good friend of mine said to me \"Are you crazy man? Dump her, what\'s the matter with you? You\'ve got a beautiful house, a nice swimming pool, a Ferrari, never married, no kids and you\'re 40 years old - you should be living the dream!\" Well, you know, that seemed like a pretty shallow quip at the time but sometimes you need to hear things from your friends and of course I got that particular crazy chic out of my life pretty quick. Come on, I\'m not stupid either! But \'m still not too sure about his dream......

Now, despite the odd little story here and there, I\'m single again. Happy in most ways but one thing just ain\'t going too well at all...... I\'m not getting any and it\'s been far too long! No sex, no women, nada, nicht, not a thing. Now look, I\'m aware that the way I described my situation above might appear a bit flat and material but I was just rushing to the point. I\'m not like that at all and herein lies the problem. Don\'t give up here, read on, I need your help guys and girls and this is the crux of it:

I like to be a genuine person. When I meet women I don\'t bull****, I don\'t brag either - I\'d NEVER say any of the above stuff. I\'ve NEVER let on about a nice house or a Ferrari - I dress in my own style, never flashily, I don\'t even wear a watch for goodness sake, none of that stuff. I just like to be me, not someone defined by material stuff although clearly I like a good life too. When people introduce me and immediately say \"he\'s got a Ferrari\", I find it mildly uncomfortable (I\'ve started to realise that in general it means that they want to be known as the friend of someone with a Ferrari) - but I live with it. It\'s part of the deal that goes with Ferrari ownership and I\'m sure some people even get a kick from it. As for myself, I would much rather people just find out who I am as a person, what I think, what makes my personality, where my spirit lies. And with women, have you noticed what kind of gold-diggers head straight for the man with the flashy watch, the big house, the Ferrari....... see what I mean? I mean, let me put it this way..... every day, sure it\'s pleasant to have a nice car but I don\'t need or want something new nor flashy to go to the shops (I drive a nicely maintained old VW Golf every day - not even a GTi)..... And prior to my current situation, I\'d never go on a date and turn up in a Ferrari. I\'m not for a minute criticising anyone who does it, although I\'d still say it\'s a way to attract bunny-boiling gold diggers, I\'m just saying it\'s not \"me\" at all. Bling and showing off just doesn\'t cut it here.

So, you see, for a modestly cool, physically super-fit, modestly ugly guy (who thankfully all my previous girlfriends found very sexy - don\'t ask why) and in my current situation, what do you do? I\'m crossing the dessert and running out of water. I\'m not even afraid of commitment, I want kids, I\'d even get married if that means the world to the right woman. But nothing at all these days, not a single thing. Except me, suddenly it\'s me that\'s become the single thing. So whether it\'s for shallow meaningless sex or a route to meet some nice women who just happen to be more interested to talking to a guy who has a Ferrari, I\'ve decided that for the first time ever, I need to pull out the stops and use the F-car to pull women.

But come on, tell me please - how on earth do you use a car to pull the birds?

I\'m not kidding, like I said, I\'m a petrolhead with a misspent youth at heart. Chatting up girls is fine and I can hold my own in whatever company you throw me into; I\'m a car guy but not only a car guy and you can call me anything you like but you certainly can\'t call me dull...... It\'s just that I\'ve never understood this whole pulling girls with a car thing. At 17 years old, I had an old convertible and a friend of mine once asked me to stop the car to talk to two random girls he saw on the street - \"I know it\'s forward,\" he said, \"but do you want to come to a party?\" That was all it took. But I\'m neither 17 years old, nor my friend and besides, I no longer have a slow old convertible. Ok, I still do, but it needs a restoration!....... When I\'m driving the F-car, all my concentration is used to keep it stuck lightly to the tarmac, I can hardly pause for a second in case some sweet chicks happen to be on the sidewalk or in a cafe..... and even if they are....... what next? What do you do? Drive off the boulevard, mount the kerb, drive up to their table, wind down your electric windows, remove the chewing gum and say \"Hi girls\", while shaking the Rolex down your wrist, dipping your Armani shades and reminding yourself not to look in the rear view mirror? On reflection, it\'s always good to make girls laugh but when your old-school electric windows slowly jerk and grind their way down and mounting the paving stones has just done a few thousand Euros of damage to the suspension, this seems a high price to pay. Tell me people, what are the ethics and practicalities of using a car to attract women? Please tell me as, in this dessert, the summer is coming, my temperature gauge is climbing, all the signs say it\'s a long way to the next water hole. The very least I need is an appealing mirage to keep me going.

P.S. I went out to the beach last weekend in the F-car. On the way back home, the accelerator pedal snapped clean off. What do you think my car is trying to tell me? Does it all fall apart at 40 or is this where life begins?