How I Found My Libido Again (It Wasn't the Vajankle That Did It)

How I Found My Libido Again (It Wasn't the Vajankle That Did It)

Vajankle.

I wanted to run out and see a car crash, the Hindenburg explosion, celebrity surgeries gone horribly wrong — anything that would supersede the image of that foot and what some person would do to it. I couldn’t stop thinking about that vajankle: who buys it; if it perhaps signals the end of days.

My newfound sexual liberation had come to a crashing failure. I shut down. I felt prudish and judgy, even though I truly believe everyone should fly their own freaky happiness flag. I felt — you guessed it — old.

After a while, Duncan and I finally had a night alone — just a couple sex nerds on clean white sheets. In the quiet of the morning, before the smell of coffee filled the house, before the neighbors’ bustle signaled the day had begun, I listened in closely on a small conversation.

SEX ORGANS: Hey, brain, you awake?

BRAIN: Yeah, but I’m surprised you are after last night. Apparently it’s not “use it or lose it.” You doin’ OK?

SEX ORGANS: Holy hell, yes. In fact, I think I’m going to be a little busy in a few minutes.

BRAIN: Maybe brunch sometime?

SEX ORGANS: My treat.

Originally posted on Purple Clover

More from Purple Clover

Related Posts

Standing Up to a Stalker

I was backed into a corner in the university library’s stacks. Looming large, Cliff was blocking my way out. Had it come to this? Was he going to attack me, placing his meaty hand over my mouth so I couldn’t make a sound? Heart pumping wildly, I put one foot in front of the other. Cliff didn’t budge. I kept moving, closer and closer. Finally, I stood right in front of him. We were practically touching. He moved away. I half-ran towards the library’s exit, turning around once to make sure that he wasn’t following me.   Read more >

Which Silly 70's Stuff Do You Miss?

Barry Gibb, my personal hero (shut up!), once said that to this day, whenever he walks by a barber shop, he just assumes he can go in there and buy some Brylcreem. He hasn’t needed it in 40 years, but still he thinks, “I wonder if they have any Brylcreem in there?” Image: Dennis Bocquet That’s exactly how I feel about the products of my youth. You know what I thought of the other day?   Read more >

Menopause: My Brain Is Full of Holes

My boyfriend and I are talking movies. Me: “What’s that film where Mira Sorvino plays the stripper?” Him: “Marisa Tomei?” Me: “Did I just say 'Mira Sorvino'?” My 22-year-old daughter and I are on our way to dinner after her ice hockey game. Me: “You know who played really well tonight?” Her: “Who?” Me: “Um, you know, she’s a defenseman.” Her: “Which one? Hailey?” Pause.   Read more >

Comments

In order to comment on BlogHer.com, you'll need to be logged in. You'll be given the option to log in or create an account when you publish your comment. If you do not log in or create an account, your comment will not be displayed.