A Dawning Realization Before a Hot Summer Weekend

Madison Avenue has its ups and downs. Sometimes it scores, sometimes it falls flat and goes down in flames. Other times, it sets the stage to give you a decisive choice between two similar products. That "other times" hit me smack in the brain last week, and it all has to do with the whole stimulus thing.

Viagra vs. Cialis.

Now, I'm not saying that those are products that have a prominent spot in our medicine cabinet -- or even a spot -- but if they did, I've decided on what my preference would be. And, I have an excellent reason to prefer one over the other -- besides the fact that one of them has made a connection that, for all times, ruined a perfectly wonderful Allman Brothers bluesy ballad.

I gotta go with Viagra.

Think about it. With Viagra you get an attentive man who whisks you away to a gorgeous, isolated island, surrounded by azure-colored waters and boasting a cabana with billowy curtains that tempt you to step inside. Or, the attentive man spirits you away to a log cabin in the snowy woods where lazy, cozy fireplace smoke smelling of hickory curls out of the stone chimney to welcome you. I imagine there's dancing and romancing.

With Cialis, you get two, separate, claw-foot bathtubs perched out in the big middle of nowhere. You have to hike to get there. And you get to hold hands between the tubs.

In another lifetime, the bathtubs might have been an adventure; but now that I'm a woman of a certain age, the finer things in life beckon much more strongly -- and are much sexier. Being the gently-aging Princess courted by the handsome, attentive Prince ain't so bad.

Both products' commercials offer a pretty powerful warning, however, and I've often wondered about it. You know -- the warning that advises one to seek medical help for a "stimulation" lasting longer than 4 hours. Which partner, exactly, is supposed to seek the medical assistance?