The Way We Were

I realized I loved you unconditionally and how committed to you I was, despite my overwhelming fear of intimacy after it was too late to tell you. Resurrecting you was impossible; you were no longer within my reach. I tried talking to your ghost; though I wasn’t convinced you could evolve into ghostly material. A year later, I still mourn your death, when I should be celebrating your life; for that I am sorry. I’m hoping this will help me find closure because dear vibrator, you always delivered, and your model is obsolete, even at the vintage-of-vintyagest porn stores. I kick myself daily, faced with the truth: all you needed was two new Duracells.

5 comments

Paul D. Brazill
Reply

Ba daaah!

Cormac Brown
Reply

Heh-heh-heh-heh…

Katie
Reply

Missy, thank God it was your vibrator you were talking about…remember the radiator incident in SF.

Adriana Kraft
Reply

love this, laugh-out-loud funny!

Jodi
Reply

Ha, ha! I used to have one of those little bullet ones, that had a battery pack on a wire. To make a short story shorter, cat chewed the wire, hubby re-wired it with higher voltage wire, let’s just say, best thing he ever did for me!

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