Ug, the though hit me last night that I haven’t met anyone or made any sort of physical contact with a member of the opposite sex in months, other than handing them a drink or change and when that starts to get exciting, I know I have hit rock bottom. Of course when one is sexually frustrated and angry at men, one tends to harbor a slightly less then sunny attitude about life.
Mel, my coworker, sensed that I was out of sorts and began gently probing to find out what my problem was. Though Mel is a deeply sensitive and gentle individual I would never in a million years expect her to understand my problem. She is the kind of person I would love to hate and I could easily hate if she wasn’t so Gad damn nice. She is absolutely and without question the most gorgeous person I have ever seen close up. You can see little flickers of envious hate flash from other womens eyes when they see her. Men have problems constructing whole sentences when she is around and being asked out/given jewelry/marriage proposals are an ever day occurrence for her. So, of course, she could never understand my conversation, though she did try bless her.
She did try the first step in consoling any woman by trying assure me that my hips, but, thighs, legs, earlobes, etc did not look fat. She then suggested several solutions to my frustration, one of which was knitting. Mel wanted to teach me to knit? It seemed even more depressing, thought practical, that I was going to be getting a jump start on something that I was going to spend the bulk of my spinsterhood doing. However, I shot down the idea because the thought of knitting a tea cozy on Saturday night was too daunting.
She then threw out yoga as a solution. She proposed that by channeling my energies positively and learning to breath I could effectively detract myself from the petty preoccupations of the flesh. I could also stop shaving my legs, listen to sitar music, burn incense, and eat only soy based foods, but for some reason breathing and contorting did not seem like an effective or feasible way to make me any less horny. Besides I hate sitar music and those funny unitards which make me look worse then I do naked.
As a third and final offer, Mel wanted to fix me up with one of her friends. Though everyone knows that blind dates are probably one of the most emotionally scaring events that one may live through, I was desperate. I know I needed something…last night I found myself getting excited when my gums didn’t bleed when I was flossed. I need a life. We are going on out on Friday.