hearts and flowers or clits and dicks?


First off, let me say I’ve always hated Valentine’s Day. I haven’t just hated it when I was single – though I am now, and that always brings and extra edge of bitterness to the whole affair – but I hated it when I was married too. Because the whole holiday just raises unrealistic expectations. The stores fill high and wide with pink satin, red velvet, roses and chocolates (just the thing – because we know NO women worry about their weight right?) and lingerie. But men (at least the men I’ve known) hate buying this stuff, hate the pressure of having to make a big deal out of this day, hate having to be romantic and thoughtful when they’d really rather be parked on the couch with a beer and the remote control.
Whew. Thought I’d managed to escape the bitter divorceé attitude. Bitter, who me?
I try studiously to avoid shopping from about the middle of January until closer to the end of February for this exact reason. When I was in my early twenties, I always threatened to have an Anti-Valentine party on Valentine’s Day… invite over some single friends, burn some valentine cards, listen to heavy metal (which today they call alternative), watch horror movies, chop up some roses into tiny little pieces, that sort of idea. Violent little thing, aren’t I?
At any rate, now that I’ve brought my browsing and shopping online, I’m finding it harder to avoid the damn holiday. My favourite sexy stores are filling up with extra goodies (guess this is their busy time) and having Valentine’s Day specials. Blech. Still, at least it’s sex-related rather than romantic, so it’s slightly more bearable. Damned if I don’t run across things I’d like anyway.
Like the Hitachi. Women have been raving about this thing seemingly forever. It’s got some definite advantages – strong vibration, and it plugs in. After a year and a half of using battery-powered vibes (and spending a damn fortune in batteries to boot) this seems appealing.Second, the suede whip seems sensual and just naughty enough. Pain and pleasure, isn’t that how the story goes? And let’s not forget about the remote panty, star of my very first erotic story, The Gift.
Maybe I’ll just have to buy one of these for myself for Valentine’s Day. Start a whole new twist to the Anti-Valentine’s Day Party… by having orgasm after orgasm without any need for roses, chocolates, or even a man for that matter!
I’ve really got to work on this bitterness. 🙂

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Vikki McKay
By Vikki McKay

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