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