I searched up and down the purple barrel of the retractable pen. No ballpoint. "OK, I give up. How do I use this stupid thing?" I asked.

He held the stubby-shaped pen between his thumb and index finger. Using his thumb, he touched a small button. Slowly, the pen's ballpoint emerged upright from its sheath. "Whoa," I exclaimed. Engraved on the side of the pop-up pen was the drug name LEVITRA.

"My wife works for a urologist," he smiled.

It's impossible to turn on the television and not hear someone talk about erectile dysfunction. Now, it looks as though I can't write a check without being reminded of it.

Maybe the root of man's problem began with an elderly lady demanding to know, "Where's the beef?"

When my husband's not playing golf, he's watching it on TV. All this week the television at our house has been tuned to the "British Open." I can't pass by the television without hearing a commercial where a woman brags about her man. She describes their relationship using adjectives like: quantity, quality and long lasting -- at a party no less. "Look at him," she smiles. The camera pans to a handsome man with a winning-lottery-ticket smile.

Other women at the party brush by him and smile seductively. One woman asks him, "Are you wearing your hair differently?" He sheepishly smiles and looks over at his girlfriend sitting on the couch.

The men at the party shoot him high fives with their eyebrows. One man walks up to him and asks, "Have you lost weight?"

Ever get a song stuck in your head? Well, I have. Try falling asleep to "Viva Viagra!" Before I realized it, I was hooked on the telenovelas.

I want to know more about the man wearing the blue tuxedo. You know him. He's the guy who picks his wife up in his arms and heads for the bedroom upstairs . Only to drop his li'l darlin' at the foot of the stairs and make her walk up. There must be something symbolic about the blue tuxedo. My husband wore a blue tuxedo to his prom. Should I be worried?

I want to know the name of the spa where one couple bathes side-by-side in porcelain tubs on a mountaintop. How much does something like that cost? Does the resort offer hot stone massages? I'm curious if soaking in a hot tub at a high altitude affects a man's, well, you know, performance?

I suddenly realized, that although many commercial couples over the age of 45 enjoyed hanging out on the Golf Channel, other couples were traveling to other stations, for instance, "Lifetime." I began to armchair psychoanalyze the commercial couples. One couple in particular, interests me: They stand side by side at the kitchen sink washing dishes. The wife's soapy hands touch her husband's hand. The husband gives his wife the winky wink. Out of nowhere, the omnipotent voice of Barry White sings, "Can't get enough of your love, baby." (Doesn't Barry White sing for Burger King?)

The couple bump dance around the kitchen. At this point, I feel creepy watching, and I'm about to leave the room, when their teenage daughter walks past the kitchen's doorway and squeals, "Eeww." That same moment, Barry White's voice screeches to a halt, and the couple stops dancing. I'm no Dr. Phil, but in my opinion, their kid's the problem. Shouldn't she have her own place?

Another couple says something like, "One moment we are feeling spontaneous, and the next moment we are interrupted." Welcome to my world. Between dogs barking, messages left on the phone telling me how I can get up to $60,000 in college loans, and kids knocking on my bedroom door, not to mention scheduling around a husband's tee-off time (no pun intended), I need more than a four-hour-long lasting pill -- I need a mountaintop spa getaway. Or at least a pill that makes me feel like I'm on a mountaintop.

To find out more about Mimi Kopulos and read her past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.
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