Sully also passes along this letter from Proust to his grandfather after a disappointing trip to a brothel:
I so needed to see if a woman could stop my awful masturbation habit that Papa gave me 10 francs to go to a brothel. But first, in my agitation, I broke a chamber pot: 3 francs; then, still agitated, I was unable to screw. So here I am, back to square one, waiting more and more as hours pass for 10 francs to relieve myself, plus 3 francs for the pot. But I dare not ask Papa for more money so soon and so I hoped you could come to my aid in a circumstance which, as you know, is not merely exceptional but also unique. It cannot happen twice in one lifetime that a person is too flustered to screw.I had a similar experience with my own grandfather. Well, not anywhere near anything as weird as that, but hey:
Every Groundhog Day I'm reminded of my grandfather, as this was his birthday. My favorite memory of him is when I was in 3rd grade, he was down visiting, and he drove me into town. We ended up at Peoples Drugstore, I don't know what he was buying, but we were standing in line and my young buck eyes landed on...PLAYBOY!!!!! Instinctively my little horny mitts grabbed it and started peeping into it, lost in my own world. After what seemed like an hour but what I'm sure was actually 12 seconds I realized what I was doing, looked up and...Grandpa was watching me. Oh shit, I thought. He's gonna take me into the parking lot and bury me under the asphalt. I slipped the mag back and awaited for the end of my all-too-brief life when I looked up at him and...he winked, laughed and said "dont worry, I wont tell your father."
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