High noon blazed across the barren landscape of my bedroom. My opponent and I stood stiffened spine to stiffened spine. Now that I was single, the bedroom showdown had begun.
Like a cattleman’s whip loneliness stings my curiosity and I turn to the brutal crack of reality.
My opponent turns low, palms sweating, hands drawn and twitching, matching my speed, my centre-part and right-cheek mole.
Yep I’m playing Cowboys and Indians, in my bedroom mirror, alone.
Single and no chance of any Cowboys or Indians on this horizon. Not anytime soon. Damn!
What was my first thought when I found myself ‘single’?
I would like to say my first thought was gracious and altruistic.
It was not.
It was, ‘Oh no. No more sex for me’.
Then I remembered the ‘super secret’ tucked in my bedside cabinet.
Sunlight probed the tortoiseshell cabinet and with one long fingered nudge the drawer shuddered open.
To reveal one bar of chocolate and one gaping space. My vibrator was gone.
Between moving house, tossing the – ‘things that no longer spark joy’, down-sizing my relationship status and child -proofing mummy’s side of the bed-I had rubbished my vibrating friend.
I tore open the chocolate bar and popped it sideways into my mouth.
On my tongue the sweet slide was … wanting.
I know vibrators have limitations … they come without Ryan Gosling six-packs and their midday shadows will never loom tall, with Clint Eastwood smiles, swaggering ‘do you feel lucky, well do you?’
I needed a replacement. But how? I was enroute to Uni and my morning class with hot lecturer.
A little bit of History: Today more than 70% of women own at least one vibrator.
Just think, we owe our favourite buzzing companion’s invention, to the over worked hands of 19th century Doctors.
Medical hand jobs were the only cure for 19th century ladies suffering from Hysteria.
Unable to keep up with the demand and with chronic hand fatigue – Doctors required assistance.
Ask and it will be given – a gift from the gods.
Squished on a peak hour train, fast-track to Uni, between Miss Unfriendly and Mr Too Friendly a sign from the gods’ flutters on my nike airs.
The newspaper’s red letters leap – SALE/BUNNINGS – savings on bulk purchases of AA batteries.
A grinch like grin stretches the slick of my Chanel lacquered lips and sneers off all leery lurking commuters.
My eyelashes batter off the armpit tendrils of Mr No-Deodorant-Wearing, Hairy Armpit.
I whip out my phone and tap purchase.
I raise my phone triumphant above my head to screen save my checkout basket.
Lit from above, an unearthly fluorescent-pink-sheen illuminates myself and all my fellow commuters.
We stand, bathed pink, by the formidable full screen selfie, of my new vibrator.
I wish I were Spock calling Scotty, ‘Beam me up Scotty, to a galaxy far, far away’.
The number one reason I found myself single: I forgot to love myself first. She loved life and it loved her right back.
Once I remembered who I was, I forgot about looking outside of myself for love.
In being alone I remembered I loved being me.
Yes I found love again but if we want more love, passion, pleasure and sex in our lives, we must learn to love ourselves first.
All images from Pinterest. You can find me on Pinterest here.X