“Warning. Your battery is able to charge normally, however it is reaching the end of its usable life.”
This is the greeting that awaits me now each time I turn on my computer. Why is it that I assume this is talking about my usable love life? Nearing the end of it, I mean. Like if I don’t quick have sex with somebody, anybody, I will no longer be able to function in that, ahem, area? And do I care? Well, YES.
I am now at the point of revirgination. It’s been so freakin’ long since I’ve had the pleasure of pleasure. Thinking about getting back on that horse again places me in a realm of anticipation, awakening and fear. (and, by the way, the only reason I think about this is the warning of my battery condition by my computer, not because I have any prospects, obtainable crushes or anybody in the least bit interested in me at this time.) By my count it’s been over five years since I’ve done the dirty dance. Shivered my timbers. Sheet wrestled, arm nestled, romped naked with a man who wanted to romp naked with me.
My IT guy asked if I could hang in with the waning battery for a few more months. I am scheduled for a laptop replacement in January. (and by the way, typing about a “laptop replacement” in this writing even has me giggling. Oh, dear Lord, get my head out of the gutter.) So I guess it’s a few more months of being reminded, on a daily basis, or more, that my battery is nearing the end of its useful life. Great. But January. Well then, look out.
This is the greeting that awaits me now each time I turn on my computer. Why is it that I assume this is talking about my usable love life? Nearing the end of it, I mean. Like if I don’t quick have sex with somebody, anybody, I will no longer be able to function in that, ahem, area? And do I care? Well, YES.
I am now at the point of revirgination. It’s been so freakin’ long since I’ve had the pleasure of pleasure. Thinking about getting back on that horse again places me in a realm of anticipation, awakening and fear. (and, by the way, the only reason I think about this is the warning of my battery condition by my computer, not because I have any prospects, obtainable crushes or anybody in the least bit interested in me at this time.) By my count it’s been over five years since I’ve done the dirty dance. Shivered my timbers. Sheet wrestled, arm nestled, romped naked with a man who wanted to romp naked with me.
My IT guy asked if I could hang in with the waning battery for a few more months. I am scheduled for a laptop replacement in January. (and by the way, typing about a “laptop replacement” in this writing even has me giggling. Oh, dear Lord, get my head out of the gutter.) So I guess it’s a few more months of being reminded, on a daily basis, or more, that my battery is nearing the end of its useful life. Great. But January. Well then, look out.
1 comment:
You're a hoot! Thanks for the laugh. I needed it. I just had a shouting match with my irrational teenage girl. I am a hugger, not a fighter.
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