RIP B.O.B. (Battery Operated Boyfriend)

4 Mar

A couple of weeks ago something happened that reminded me that not only was I single but for the first time in a long time did I feel lonely in my singleness. What happened you asked? No, I didn’t find out my EX was getting married. I didn’t attend a wedding that left me feeling some kind of way. I think I would be able to deal with BOTH of those things. What happened might you ask? My vibrator died. AND in the most disrespectful manner possible. It’s not like I went into the drawer to get it and found it didn’t work anymore. Not even like I ran out of batteries and after a quick trip to the local drug store, returned to the big O and a good fucking nap (cuz lets face always sleep better after a good finale). But none of those things happened…

It had the nerve to die in the middle of the throws of my singular passion. The SOB just died! *Buzzzzzz…sputter sputter…cough..flatline*. I’m not sure if I cried or not but I surely wanted to.

Hey, do you deliver batteries?

Hey, do you deliver batteries?

Most women my age have the privilege of owning a battery operated boyfriend. It’s like a rite of passage. So if this makes you blush then you need to either #1 Stop reading because you’re too young or #2 get over yourself and go pick yourself up one (won’t solve world hunger but it will cure what ails ya lady parts!). Let’s be real. It’s hard to KNOW how to sexually please a woman because we have so much going on down there! (Another way the universe jipped us! All men need is lotion and a towel!) My theory is if you can’t please yourself, then don’t expect anyone else to know how to do the job. So yea, I have this part of my love life down to a science! *snicker, snicker*

Needless to say that I am not shy about owning a vibrator. It’s so not a big deal. WHAT I do have a problem with is owning one, it breaking and not having the means to fulfill my needs and the resultant emptiness that its absence made me aware of. It was with B.O.B’s untimely death (may he rest in peace) that the cold hard reminder that I was single, man less and only getting laid by the help of Duracell and the Energizer bunny struck me. (Pardon me while I jump off a bridge).

Now sex isn’t just about getting off. Okay, sometimes it’s TOTALLY just about that. So maybe I should use the word intimacy because intimacy and sex are NOT synonymous. Sure you can get off with anything and anyone (have you seen that show “Sex Landed me in the ER”…eewwww). But intimacy, no matter how you slice it doesn’t come from a battery operated boyfriend any more than a snowstorm is caused by a snowflake. Intimacy is created and shared. Nurtured and cultivated. Intimacy is about being close and vulnerable and imperfect and flawed and…human. So while B.O.B could get me off, he couldn’t listen to my woes, stroke my hair, kiss my forehead or hold me tight. At best he was good for making my toes curl so I could quickly fall into an orgasm induced coma and be completely ignorant that there was no wet spot to lay in and no warm body to hold me as I drifted to sleep.


mobile-phone-cell-charger-2-6028587You know, sometimes life sucks because you don’t always get what you want when you want it. And I’m going to say this…being single is some BULLSHIT. Yea, sometimes I am Ms. Positivity and Sunshine. Some days I’m so wrapped up in the awesomeness that is my life that I am too busy and fulfilled to recognize I’m single. Yet there are other days when I am feeling completely vulnerable and in need of a warm body to be held by and reassure me everything will be alright. Nevertheless, I refuse to settle not for a warm body or a warm bed. Shit, I’ve come to far to settle for anything other than HAPPY. So guess who just forked over $97 for B.O.B’s replacement. She did! And least this time he’s rechargeable!


The Mistress of All Things Fabulous


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