Playing Tricks

For five months — five full months! March April May June July! — I had only the kind of sex I could have (lovingly, enthusiastically, yet somewhat mechanically) with myself. During the first half of that time I remained hopeful that the next weekend would solve the problem of my lonely vagina. Over the final half there grew the almost certain conviction that I’d never be in a relationship again, most likely because I am awful and hideous with elbows that smell funny and unfortunate levels of flatulence.

Of course those things aren’t true¹. I never really thought they were. But enough time and rejection would make anyone wonder about their desirability.

But August has been a whole ‘nother story. In the first week of this month I baked a pecan pie, his favorite, in a not-too-subtle attempt at seduction. It and a pizza went uneaten while Pulp Fiction went unwatched and since that time, in less than a month, and despite the demands of a whole buncha children and two demanding jobs, we’ve managed to get together in the naked sense nearly ten times.

Ten times! Almost! My poor vagina is so confused! Skin untouched by another for that many months had grown so tender as to be raw for hours and days afterward. This has extended to my poor bottom which has been treated to flogging, spanking and paddling to such a degree that I’m a little worried about it. Better take it easy back there, I said the other night. You don’t want to build up a callus on my bottom.

This is what I said, but what I meant was this: I could get used to this. I could get used to the kindness and intelligence and attention and sex. I have no callus. I want no callus. So let’s try to be gentle.

And I don’t mean to my ass.

1. Except possible the bit about the elbows, because who can really smell their own elbows? [↩]