Bye Bye Vibrator
You were bought at the insistence of my long distance boyfriend. He also suspected that this my curb my absolutely insatiable appetite. I was skeptical at first: at 20 years old I had never successfully brought myself to cum by myself and only a few years earlier had I accidentally discovered how my ladybits "properly" functioned as to allow for a happy ending and this had only been replicated in a partner situation.
And at first, it was tough. We tried you out together, me lying on my back. It was alright, it worked out decently well, he was happy, but I was left $30 poorer with this giant, ugly, awkward thing lying in my top desk drawer next to the post-its.
Eventually he returned home and I had a genius idea. Laying awake one night, squirming awkwardly under the covers and hungrily sweating, I devised a setup to replicate the only way I had been able to o up to this point. I piled up two pillows longways between my legs, stood you up, and took the plunge. With no one but myself at the controls, I awkwardly navigated and grinded on you until the final successful moments. We both had determination in our eyes that night, and when I finally tumbled over the cliff I was alone--a weird, startling, unusual thing to be. And I liked it.
You didn't ask for anything in return. You didn't want to get lodged in my throat. You didn't want me to buy a pizza, you didn't secretly think I was fat. You were my friend.
I kept you hidden in my drawer when my dorm roommate came home. At night I would angrily glare at her from my bed, wishing we didn't have classes at the same time, wishing for an ounce of privacy to recreate what had become a personal milestone.
When I finally moved out of the dorm I moved into the basement of a girlfriend's house in Georgetown until my apartment opened up. Her FAMILY'S house might I add. Though she slept in a room only a doorway away, and there was an open stairway into the room I lived in, I used you insatiably. On the couch in the dark, on the floor, in the bathroom with the shower on so I had a legitament reason at 5 in the afternoon to be in there for so long. I rode on the Metro from work just to be trembling when I pulled you from the black RadioShack bag I kept hidden under mounds of clothes.
When I moved into the apartment in Adam's Morgan a month ago, it was more of the same. Except now I had upped the ante. I used you twice daily at least--sometimes working my way up to three times. I was concerned I was becoming addicted but I didn't care. I used to call my boyfriend so he could listen to it happen to me (at his begging, pleading requests); now I became too worked up into a frenzy at a moment's notice that there was no time.
But you, you betrayed me. As soon as I moved into my apartment--the first room that was truly my own in 11 months, the wires that connected the base to the battery connector/controller began to fray. The vibration--my lifeline--became flakey. I had to move the battery case a certain way just to get you to work. Then in the middle of a session the wires just plain frayed completely. You died. And I, too, died a little inside.
I kept good care of you. I cleaned you. I kept you safe. I loved you. And you, for no particular reason, frayed in the most unlikely spot. You betrayed me.
Now I am alone at night. I finally broke down and purchased a $60 version of you made with a more realistic material and better made controls. Sixty fucking dollars that I don't have. I probably can't buy groceries this week because I expedited the shipping because I can't sleep without it.
Goodbye, Lucille. You served me well, even if now you lay daintily on the bathroom counter--torturing and taunting me even now (but not the good kind).
PS--Is anyone good with soldering? Real life replacements need not reply. This 1-3 day wait is killing me.