Sep 02 2008
B-day
It’s my thirty-first birthday; I received two birthday cards, one from my mom with a birthday buck in it. The other from Marlboro with a Zippo lighter, those guys really care. The card should say congratulations on surviving another year without dying from lung cancer. I decided to buy a new vibrator as a birthday gift to myself; it’s the gift that keeps on giving. My old pocket rocket died several months ago and I haven’t replaced it. I did however discover a substitute while in the shower testing out my new microdermabrasion kit. It vibrates and I’m naked that’s all it takes. Eventually it to would die and I would add it to the graveyard of vibrators. One lonely weekend I asked myself: Is it wrong to borrow your roommate’s vibrator while they are out of town?
Seven years ago Kat and I rented a fabulous apartment uptown, where we shared everything including my vibrator. I remember thinking; we’re both single and gay why don’t we just cut out the middleman. Before I could answer my own question, I discovered that they travel with their toys. I use to travel with toys, until one particular camping trip with my ex-husband Jack and his parents right after our wedding. We pulled up to the campsite; the in-laws came to greet us, and helped unpack the truck. My bag fell to the ground; my vibrator flopped out at my in-laws feet. We were parked on a hill, with the vibrator, being cylindrical, began to roll. They all ran after it as I stood in shock. Jack finally stepped on it with his foot and mumbled something about that darn flashlight as he shoved it in his back pocket. Later in the tent we wondered if they knew what it was.
“Why would you bring that thing camping?” he yelled.
“We’re stuck in the woods with your parents, what else am I gonna do all weekend?” I asked.
I felt a new vibrator would be a wise investment, as I foresee many solo nights in my future, maybe an occasional threesome with Ben & Jerry but that’s about it.
