You may have noticed I have no filter.
Hopefully, this is one of the things you love about me. If not, this post is about to get real uncomfortable for ya.
I’ve mentioned my friend K before; she does my hair and is basically me in a shorter package. Which is not good news for the world, by the way, because it means I’m now being produced by other manufacturers and in adorable travel sizes.
K came to me, totally bypassing my usual friendship hurdles (slow down, we just met; I’ve known you for a week now, if we were going to be friends it would have happened already… I have a lot of excuses) and basically chirped and bounced after me until I gave her a chance, which is when I scraped off her perky exterior and discovered my mini-me. She’s fierce and blunt and stubborn and loud and just about my favorite exhausting person in the whole world, and Husband hides when the two of us are together because he can hear the conversation just fine from wherever in the county he is.
Which is why it’s so weird to me that he didn’t notice at all when she asked me—without any awkwardness or nervous giggling—for advice on her sex life. She’s been with her dude for two years, I’ve been with mine for fifteen, she figured I had the inside track on awesome sexytimes… and she was right, of course. But as I say, we were not whispering and my response was of the matter-of-fact, “Okay, here’s what you gotta do” variety, so I’m not sure how he was so surprised when….
HIM: He broke the lawnmower, but I think we can fix it.
ME: That sucks.
HIM: Yeah, I’m checking online for parts.
ME: Okay, let me know.
HIM: Yeah… also, you may want to (coughs) clean up your browsing history?
ME: Huh? Ohhhhh. Yeah, I was showing K some sex toys.
HIM: Don’t need the details, just… take care of it. (leaves)
HIM: (comes back) Yeah?
ME: You’re not usually squeamish about that stuff. What’s that about?
HIM: Just… when I’m looking at lawnmower parts and it has that section—“recommended based on your browsing history.”
ME: (giggles) Okay, that would be weird, but—
HIM: And I don’t need to know that there’s a Vagina Pump.*
ME: Oh! Oh! We saw that while we were looking for something and we were so confused! Like… why? You know? How would… and what… so we clicked. And do you know what it is?
HIM: I can guess!
ME: It’s that damned Kylie Jenner lip challenge for your vagina!
HIM: I don’t want to—
ME: That’s so many kinds of wrong and disturbing and dangerous and unnecessary! I mean, how is that even a thing?
HIM: I don’t know, but please. Just… clear your browsing history, okay?
* Do not click that link at work, unless it’s already your last day and your one remaining fuck has withered. Also, you may notice it’s an affiliate link—I’m not specifically getting into the vagina pump market, but I am trying to make a couple bucks off links I put in anyway so I can get rid of the ads (which I saw on someone else’s computer and now hate with a fiery passion). If you object to that goal, don’t buy through the link, but don’t blame me for ads.