Dead Reckoning

It's an estimate by whatever means available,
no magic radar or satnav, nothing nautical;
we here of orientation but now it's sexual,
must be derogatory, not really complimentary.

We take a guess, how often are we right?
I thought you might forgive me, my guiding light,
I'll engage the use of the stars, Andromeda,
but anything I do turns out to be an anathema.

Now, when that guess is correct, whoop-de-do,
pat on the back, serenity for just me and you,
buying until the next time, buying only time,
but what do I get for my nickel and dime?

Straight in a line, can you find your destination?
Now you know, if you select the right inclination.