JOHN DILDOE

Allow me to explain...

First off, that is not my dildo (I swear!) although this was the scene I was confronted with after coming home from work one night. "John-Dildoe" belongs to Roomie. After briefly hyperventilating I was assured it was totally clean and posed no "threat" to anything within it's general vicinity (with the exception of my sanity).

Allow me to explain further. Since Roomie has come back from Peru she has been without employment, and avoiding writing her thesis paper. Therefore, she has been on a mean cleaning streak. One day, while organizing her closet she came across John Dildoe, which has been gathering dust for several years.

In her defense, she spent the majority of today mopping our hardwood floors (a task I have deferred for the better part of nearly 3 months), washing the glass on the framed artwork in our place, cooking chili (yum!) and even cleaning the blinds (thanks Roomie - our shower is totally fucked now).

I guess I can live with a dildo in my dish rack.

Fuck, for all intensive purposes, I am "married". And like the vast majority (total baseless assumption) of married men, without regular sex. Maybe I need a John Dildoe of my own....I don't know what it is lately, but holyfuckingshit I feel the need to get laid! I need to get naked and sweaty with a boy, and soon!

I didn't need a dildo to remind me of this fact, but goddammit it does.