The Dr. Seuss title is misleading. This is another post in the saga of my never-ending seach for personal entertainment devices.
Yep, Mom, this IS the one you told me not to post.
The neon pink color and the ridiculous rabbit-shaped flange (why? why?) were some of the most off-putting things about my little helper, so when I discovered this lovely blue sculptural model instead, I ordered it right up. Yes! Did you see that? It was all abstract instead of representational and anthropomorphic! And the shape, intriguing, no? One friend (Friend #5) suggested I may have inadvertently purchased a device meant for a slightly different purpose than what I had planned, but I felt I could make do.
Interestingly, while I waited for my newly ordered device to arrive, my old device suddenly stepped up to the plate. I think it was trying harder because it sensed our relationship was in peril. He was worried, and I think he made a little extra effort.
Finally, the day arrived and I had my first liaison with my intriguing new friend. TWO hours and NOTHING. Well, not nothing per se, but not enough. I felt the need to encourage myself with a little vocal augmentation.
Gary stuck his head in the door. (He'd come home about an hour into this debacle and I shooed him away, because when I set a goal I work to achieve it, goddammit.)
He said, "Are you DONE yet? You've been in here for hours! What was that noise you were making? You're faking an orgasm for your VIBRATOR? Just give up already!"
Actually, I gave up for about three weeks (really, it's not like it's my hobby), and then the mood struck me. That "Gary needs his sleep" mood. I fished out my cunning new blue friend again and put the batteries in. Turned it on. Nothing.
Flipped the batteries. Turned it on. Nothing.
Changed to all new batteries and tried every possible battery permutation and NOTHING!NOTHING!NOTHING! What does that mean? I have made a vibrator impotent. Still, I'm keeping him around just to keep the fear of God in Old Pink.
The moral of the story? Never give up.