Depravity, NOW!

Respectfully, I masturbated three times today, which is a wild hero’s journey for someone who thought they were asexual not that long ago.

Today, I ordered a vibrator and an SPF from Amazon. They’ll arrive in the same box. I guess my forties are about really committing to new experiences.

The joke lands harder if you know I used to be militantly anti-SPF. I still can’t reliably make myself wear it—not the ones I’ve tried, anyway. Same with sex toys. I’d attempted both before, but could never quite convince myself either experience was worth the effort.

Granted, for an alarmingly long time, the only sex toy I owned was a glass dildo ribbed with little red hearts, gifted to me by a girl who is dead now.

Maybe—and I hate admitting this—grief simply wasn’t compatible with trying to get off using a strangely nouveau objet d’art. Also: ew, dildos.

Like, I’m not sure how I feel about penis generally, but here’s a facsimile, somehow harder, colder, and faintly sentimental. It was never functional in any meaningful sense from the start.

Maybe everything I’ve decided “isn’t for me” was actually just introduced to me under the worst possible conditions.

The thickest, greasiest SPF imaginable. The coldest, saddest cock.

Honestly, that theory explains a surprising amount of my life.

I started off on the wrong foot with almost everything. But I don’t know. It’s okay now. Or maybe not okay exactly—just more okay than it used to be. And sometimes “more okay” is a legitimate spiritual milestone.

Is any of this healthy? Hard to say.

I'm not seeing a therapist and don't want to. The last one suggested I have an affair, and the one before that convinced me to divorce my first husband. At this point, I’m afraid the next one will escalate accordingly.

Start an OnlyFans.

Send nudes.

Microdose ketamine in the desert.

I can't bear a prescription for Coachella. 

I struggle to complete my to-do list as it is.

But whatever. Whatever.

There’s a box coming to my house, and the reviews for both items were extremely high.

Who knows what the future holds beyond my next Amazon delivery?

The modern girl's self-care package.