“Thanks, I – “
“Did you want your retheipt?”
“Sure, I – “
“Here you go, but remember -- he’th a final thale!”
I felt high walking out of the store with Joey in a bag. I had bought my first dildo, yippee-eye-yay!! As I was headed for my car I realized there were more errands I had to run but was terrified I’d space out and leave him somewhere, or he’d drop out of my bag as I reached for my wallet…“Miss, oh Miss! You left your…”
At home, I was alone, sort of. Joey was in his bag in the bottom of my sock drawer. I wondered: should I tell my husband about the new addition to the family? Would he be jealous? Weirded out? Bored? I already felt a bit like I was cheating on him, lusting in my heart as I already had for Joey for almost six months.
I acted normal when he came home. Listened to his day. Folded laundry. Did the dishes.
Lay awake staring into the blackness.
The next day I got as far as lunch. Corn chowder, turkey sandwich, iced tea. Tried to read the paper. Couldn’t. He was all I could think about. Up there, alone in his bag, pining for me, calling my name…
Halfway through the sandwich I reached my breaking point. I ran up the stairs and into his (arms). It was perfect. I got it. I GET IT NOW, I thought, what everyone’s been talking about. In sum: hey, it ain’t bad when you’re “gasping for it” as my British friend Clarice used to say, who now has seven children and is probably done gasping I would wager. It’s true, there was much of Joey that I had to fabricate, but I also noted happily that he didn’t mind if there were others in the room, such as old flames, that guy at the gas station, a former boss, even a couple of celebs and a farm animal or two. NOT the jealous type. Sweet!
