Everyday Stranger

A Complete Lack of Concentration

Last night, one and a half bottles of red wine down and having watched “Ghost Ship” on DVD (“Um…why did you watch that?” you may ask. My reply: “I seriously have no idea, it seemed like a good waste of energy at the time.” Key words there: Waste of energy).

So Partner Unit goes up to bed and Helen the insomniac stays downstairs. A fire is roaring in the fireplace, the lights are low, and I am more than a bit drunk. TV sucks a clown’s ass, and I was a bit too far in the cups to appreciate a good book. I was bored. I needed something to do. So I decided to do what all adults do when they are bored, tipsy, and need to go to bed.

Yup. Time to play with myself.

I went into my briefcase and grabbed my travel-size little helper (hey-you never know when you will have a self-relations emergency. I like to think I am prepared). I walked back into the living room and lay down on the couch, pocket rocket at the ready.

I started to have a quick rub around down there and got some material ready. What would I like to think about…hmmm…

I clicked on the toy and started to think about a beautiful lush hotel room. Candles, champagne, roses. An enormous bed with a lover there, waiting for me, waiting to make love to me all night. I want the picture of Paris outside the window. The last time I was in Paris, I was alone on a business conference. The meeting was rough, actually, and it was held with some customers that asked a lot of demanding questions. They were good questions, but I really had to test my knowledge. I left the meeting so tired that I-

Damn it! I just got sidetracked. Focus, Helen, focus! Stop thinking about work and play with yourself now!

OK, what should I think about? Mmm, start thinking about meeting up with John Cusack. Then get seriously annoyed he is wasting his remarkable intellect on Britney Spears, so switch. I think about meeting Don in a hotel bar. It would be love at first sight, I am sure, and he would whisk me upstairs, where he would magically start to undress us both without it seeming the least bit weird. I try to picture him, and start to think about what he would look like. Would he be furry? That’s important. Oh God, what if our bits didn’t align? That could be awkward. How would his blog start the next day? “After meeting Helen and finding pure fireworks, it only became the biggest and greatest disappointment of my life once I realized that I like my women to fit me like Twiggy. It was possible that I made a mistake, since Helen seemed to fit me more like Ziggy.”

Fuuuuuuck. Realize that I lost focus again and the toy slipped down and is vibrating somewhere along my upper leg. Re-position the toy and try again.

Now I think about Mr. Y, which is always a guarantee to work. I think about the fabulous pillowcase episode, the incredible orgasms that Igot from that whole evening. I picture his face between my legs...then start to imagine his face between another woman's legs, since he and I are not together anymore (obviously). God, I miss him. I mean, losing him was so horrible. Isn't it the case that you go crazy imagining the one you loved with someone else after the breakup? It's a case of "I am not going to fuck you anymore, but I don't want you to fuck anyone else, either"! I mean, is he missing me in bed, too? Isn't it a tragedy we can't be together? God I'm so down, I-

Oh, come on! Why can't I do this? My libido has dried up. I not only can't focus at work due to Judgement Day, I can't even focus at something I am really good at! I give up and slam my toy on the table. As I do so, the battery case comes open and a little battery rolls out. It's the kind with the little strip on the side, to test the charge left in the battery. In my drunken state I manage to test it, and I find almost nothing.

Oh. Looky there. The battery is dead. OK, well I'll replace it. I get up, get a new one, replace it in the toy, and decide to give it one last go. I line it up on the right spot, turn it on...

...and am nearly blasted into the dining room by the power of my victorious race to the finish line, which came like lightning after three seconds of contact with the full-battery operated toy. Ahhhh....I needed that.

Not only can't I concentrate, I can't even remember to change batteries.

Think I will give up playing with myself until after I hear the verdict of Judgement Day. I clearly have too much on my mind. My mind is best focused on surviving 10 more days to hear the outcome.

Oh, who am I kidding. I could never go 10 days without playing with myself.

And, in the meantime, I have "Double-AA batteries" on my next grocery list.

-H.

PS-Blimey. I won the writing contest at Guinness' place.

Posted by Everydaystranger at November 8, 2003 10:19 AM | TrackBack