The Empty Bottle of Lube

It’s not really empty. It’s got a tiny bit left- about enough to coat ten dicks or so. It’s an orange bottle of KY Warming. Some people swear by it. It does, however, have a tendency to warm on one’s hands, which can lead to uncomfortably warm and oily situations. Lube is very handy. It comes in a small bottle and is easily slipped into a pocket or handbag. Unfortunately for me, more often than not it would stay there.

He bought the lube, but really I had custody of it. I optimistically carried it around with me. For some reason, I was the only one who neurotically found time and fucked during it. We didn’t have the luxury of waiting until we were in the mood, but perhaps that’s not necessary at 20 years old. I was always the one making the time and space for it, which clearly I’ve come to resent.

So when it came time for me to leave New York for what I knew would be the last time, I took that fucking bottle with me. My plan was that the next time he brought a girl home, thoughts of me would fill his head as he searched for the lube unsuccessfully. I didn’t want anyone to benefit from the lube that I painstakingly cradled in the recesses of my purses, glove compartment, and suitcase. I took it from him, perhaps in a spiteful attempt to thwart his efforts at “moving on.” (As if that would benefit me!) Taking it with me, in theory, let me inconvenience him while supplying myself with a bit of free lube.

But what does one do with an empty bottle of lube but not quite? I have this very tangible memento of our most intimate moments which haunts me from beneath my bed. Furthermore, it would be terribly tacky for me to present it to a subsequent lover, and would remind me of who else’s hands I’d seen it in. My plan completely backfired.

You would think that after writing all this I’d be ready to throw it out, but no. I’m still convinced that I’ll need it when I finally get a Rabbit. Someone get me a Rabbit.