Okay, It’s Probably The End of My Sex Life

But it’s not like my sex life was that great to begin with.  I mean, let’s be honest, folks, if you lack the skills to convince libertarians to fuck you, you lack skills in general, and if ever there were a girl on the planet who liked to play “Get drunk and try to convince libertarians to fuck you,” well, it’s me.

Oh, shut up.  I don’t ask you why you like to fuck types of people do I?  No, I’m not poking around in your past history questioning why all your sex partners seem to be one tequila shot away from a church-destroying sex scandal.

So, let’s just accept my quirks as being just that, quirks, and move on to the point of this post which is, even if I were successful at bedding libertarians in the past, those days are over.

In fact, I am no going to have to bank on the conservatives being right–that gay marriage will soon lead to all kinds of debauchery like men marrying garbage cans and women marrying anteaters, because, really, an anteater is probably the only thing that’s going to find the new nighttime me attractive.  Even Mrs. Wigglebottom hid under the bed all night long.

So, it isn’t pretty. 

There’s a chin strap apparatus and then this nose thing with a giant tube and you have to stay on your back all night and the noise from it is all like Luke, I am your father, and bleh, yes, the whole thing is a little depressing and I desperately wanted to call out to the Butcher and ask him if it looked as stupid as I thought, but if you open your mouth with the thing on, you kind of feel like you’re choking.  Not that I could open my mouth, with the chin strap.

But, I think I did kind of regress back to the last time I slept that well, because the one time I woke up last night (as opposed, you’ll remember, to once every two hours), I was going “blublblrberb” and blowing spit bubbles like a tiny baby.

And, when the alarm went off, I felt wide awake.  It was really weird.  And now I feel great, really alert and kind of in a silly mood.

So, there you go.

20 thoughts on “Okay, It’s Probably The End of My Sex Life

  1. Ooo, if I were woman enough for both Coma and the Squirrel Queen…

    But true enough. I just need to work up the guts to type “CPAP machine porn” into Google and see where my new pool of mates is coming from.

  2. Heh!

    You shouldn’t be restricted to sleeping on your back, btw… and I need to hook you up with info on the ResMed UltraMirage rig. The beauty of that one is it’s damn near impossible to block the exhaust ports (unless you tie a plastic bag over your head), and it’s very comfortable and quiet. A bit spendy, but worth it.

  3. This is why Jeffraham and I are going to have to get married. We have the same sleep snorkel (tm Weetabix)! It’s true love! Yay!

    Seriously, though, B, I also can highly recommend that particular mask. The only thing you have to worry about is adjusting the “BREATH-O-PRENE HEADGEAR” (hahahaha! patented! woo!) so the soft little narrow straps don’t pinch your lovely cheeks.

    As for Mrs. W, we solved the “JEEBUS WHAT’STHAT OMG SOMETHING’S EATING MYMOM’S HEAD SAVEMESAVEME” reaction by brushing HarryCat with the mask lying nearby on the bed one night, with the machine turned on the next night and with me wearing the mask the next night. By the fourth night, HarryCat was all “Mooooooom, enough with the snorkel-finagling. Brush my furry self, please.” Now he snores next to me, just like before. (He needs his own sleep snorkel.) I suggest brushing or something equally fun and relaxing for Mrs. W with the gradual introduction of the sleep snorkel, and all shall be well for both you girls.

    And as for I know somebody who’s getting a black cape and toy lightsaber for Xmas, I think you’ve found your niche market in the personals. Bwah!

  4. You need to pay more attention to Democratic men and lefties*. Real men — I mean men of the left — will find creative ways to play with and around your headgear and probably figure out a way that lovingly helping you to put it on is part of the after-play wind-down and conversation part of the event.

    Congratulations on the sleep, BTW.

    *For the purposes of this discussion, we’ll be dealing with straight and bisexual men, and acknowledging that gay men may offer advice but probably won’t be helping B find creative uses for her mask.

  5. Well, nm, let’s not rule out orgies. Gay men are more than welcome to help me find creative uses for my mask if it involves the cute guy we’re both focusing on.


    Yes, orgies of lefties. That’s always good fun.

  6. CPAP: Putting the “Oxy” back in “Doxy”!

    Guess who wasn’t cut out for a high-powered career on Madison Ave.?

  7. You only have to wear that thing when you’re sleeping, right? If so, there’s no problem (because if you’re sleeping during sex, that’s a bigger problem to begin with).

    On the other hand, taking hits of pure oxygen during the act could have it’s own happy side effects.

  8. Mack, Zombie Fetish … Bigfoot Fetish … Ghost Fetish
    I will send you a handbook of the things I’m smitten with.

    Who’s Darth? Isn’t he married to Trisha Yearwood?

  9. On the other hand, taking hits of pure oxygen during the act could have it’s own happy side effects.

    Ordinarily, the CPAP is only feeding the patient’s airway slightly-pressurized room air. Most rigs have a connector for oxygen for patients who require it, but your run-of-the-mill OSA sufferer doesn’t need it.

  10. Most rigs have a connector for oxygen for patients who require it, but your run-of-the-mill OSA sufferer doesn’t need it.

    That’s a shame ;-)

  11. I think it’d be more likely to perk up your sex life. More of you being all quirky and happy and loving some good smooching while awake instead of tired, and from things you’ve posted in the past, it sounds easier for you be be withdrawn when tired than to be your full charming self.

    You could always say up front that sleepovers aren’t an option, just enthusiastic nookie before decamping to separate beds. I could be wrong, but I’d think that wouldn’t stop someone who had succumbed to your charms to the point of wanting said nookie.

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