Yes it does with an unevenness that even embarrasses the one who cannot. I have been both parties and so I understand it to the point of refraining from any kind of intercourse. The lack of words always disguises the tumultuous insides. If I shared them I feel a woman would be appalled. The desire to penetrate and lap up liquid is base, it’s vulgar, the same motions of an apex predator on top of a gazelle with my teeth on her neck, the blood leaking, her eyes open but empty. The drive seems to negate the possibility for life. The scarcity of opportunity. The distance from water, the fact of every predator looking for honey, it turns into a death match, the ultimate Gladiator, last one standing, and mostly you understand how you can’t measure up in the long run, and that the woman won’t want you, body, money, job, words, because you didn’t use them in the beginning as a means to communicate. It ends as quickly as it began unless you cannot avoid the instinct to take everything at the first chance and make a promise to her that you want this to last. I want this to last. I like myself. I can like you. Are you as willing as I to accept a person and not a God? I don’t want to be a God. I just want to be me.