In the olden days, there was a stat people used to quote about how men think about sex every 7 seconds. Men were animals, apparently, held to ransom by their desperate, yearning, aching ballsacks. Women were often left out of such studies as people thought women were incapable of enjoying sex because it’s “icky” and it “messes up one’s hair”. Thankfully, times have changed. In ground-breaking research commissioned exclusively for Girl Meets Girl, I can reveal exactly how often women think about sex. Behold, a single day in the mind of a woman:
Last month I threw away my bullet. Poof. Gone. There was nothing wrong with it. It hadn’t worn out or wound down or fizzled up on the insides like an old radio. It still hit the spot, made me squirm and writhe and gasp and sing like a canary all over the bed sheets. I just made a decision it was time to end it and I ended it. Plop. In the bin. Another useless bit of plastic swimming in a dump somewhere. I know. I KNOW. Someone fetch an ambulance or a fire engine or a detective to find this poor woman’s marbles. What’s wrong with me? Vibrators are awesome. They’re a single woman’s best friend. They’re the slightly seedier version of getting a cat. Me, my vibe and my pussy: We’re one big, happy, creepy family.