Right Hand Man
Last week, after the untimely death of my beloved Battery Operated Boyfriend, I agonized over which B.O.B. was perfect for me. I searched Consumer Reports for product reviews. Finding nothing, I called my girlfriends.
They told me their experiences in much too graphic detail. They answered my questions much too honestly. I settled on a model from the Hustler line. I ordered it online with the understanding that it would be delivered in discreet packaging.
In hindsight, I should have paid the extra money for overnight service. I underestimated just how cheap and attached to B.O.B. I really am. The past few days have been trying for me. I have had to resort to wine to put me to sleep at night. During the days, when I see my mail carrier, I run out to greet him. "Waiting for something special?" he asks. "Not really," I reply nonchalantly. I try to conceal the look on my face that would tell him that I am having impure thoughts.
Last night, in a moment of desperation, I decided to get out the super glue. I have several types of adhesive in my home. I am always gluing something to something else. I have wood glue, rubber cement, Elmer's glue, Gorilla glue, one-minute epoxy, five-minute epoxy, and super glue. I love adhesives. I cannot explain it.
The first tube was old and sealed shut. The pin provided did little to free up the adhesive inside. Undeterred, I pierced the top of a new tube. Carefully, I lined the broken edge of my B.O.B. with super glue. I thought about how happy he would be to be with me one last time. Or maybe, 16 last times. Lost in fantasy, super glue poured down my right hand and onto my shirt. My shirt instantly bonded with my stomach.
I did not panic. I also have a few bottles of nail polish remover around here. I put the tube on the desk and set my B.O.B. next to it so that I could attend to my shirt. Unfortunately, my right hand did not let go of B.O.B.
I should mention that I was on the phone at this time. With my dad. I know, I know. Who does B.O.B. repair while on the phone with their father? I made up a lame excuse about being glued to my favorite coffee mug (I don't own one) and laid the phone down carefully, not touching it with my sticky hands.
The good news is that B.O.B. vibrates again. The bad news is that I am typing this with one hand.