MMMMMM ZZZZZZ

Please be patient. I will write more later when life is less stressful (relationships worked out, and I am done cramming for the CPA exam). Since that’s not going to happen over night I thought I would talk about how even my vibrator is depressing me.

I went home a couple of weeks ago to grab some stuff. All of sudden the memory of my little vibrating friend popped up in my mind. Now there’s something I can take comfort it; the ability to at least physically please myself. After relocating every dust ball under the bed, I found the glorious box containing my little pal. Like an anxious child, I ran straight home to play with my new toy.

After adjusting all my fluffy pillows and soft sheets in the necessary order and performing the task at hand, I felt disappointed. What kind of trick is this? I use to be in love with this thing, and now it just resembles something far removed from a man or much pleasure.

A couple of nights later, my stubborn side came out again and I decided this time would be better. It wasn’t. It’s just a reminder that there was no man tangled on top of me. There’s no one kissing me and saying dirty things in my ear. More than that, no one’s there to cuddle with afterwards and laugh with. Damn you old friend, you’ve changed.

My friend assures me this is because of my present state, and that once my over all mood changes our friendship will rekindle. She also assures me that the longer I go without the real thing; the more I will like him. (I hope it’s a him). Is she right? Is the romance gone? Could it be true that we’ve moved on and changed too much for one another?

I can’t give up. This weekend, I’ll give him one more chance. It’s so hard to let go. Sigh.