1.25.2005

This is not an invitation, but...

Well, the week and a half dumping regrets have set in, and my fingers are just itching to call the ex. It's not going to happen, though. (All you feminists out there can breathe easy.)

It's not that I miss him at all...I miss the sex. Getting earth-shattering, thigh-quivering nookie on a regular basis has left me spoiled. I feel like an adolescent boy with the DTs. Unfortunately, my first vibrator (Eddie and the Batteries) was sadly lost in the move from apartment to house over a year ago.

After the paycheck comes in this week, I'll be dragging my roommate to the local adult playthings store to help me buy a substitute schlong. (She needs one, too. If we don't get these soon, our water bill is going to be through the roof.) Nothing is like the feel of skin on skin, but a buzz toy will do nicely for now.

And I don't know about you, but I have never been in the local 24-hour porn store during the daytime (or sober). I get the strange sensation I wouldn't be as pleased with my purchases in that scenario. Thus, Friday looks like it may have a trip to the ATM, Sam's, the liquor store and a sex shop...all in one day!!!!

Mama would be so proud...sniff.