Column Classic: Snow Job
By Lisa Scottoline
Today, we discuss regret. Which I have, in spades, of late.
I don’t regret something I bought, which is called buyer’s remorse. I regret something I didn’t buy, and I don’t know what that’s called.
Cheapskate’s remorse?
Or just plain dumb?
I didn’t buy the thing in question because it was expensive and I thought I could do without it, but after doing without it for ten years, I find myself full of regret. I made a mistake. I wish I’d bought one. I yearn for one. I even fantasize about one.
Odd.
I used to lust after men, or jewelry. Thoughts of either could keep me up all night. Men bearing jewelry would be ideal. Men wearing jewelry would not.
But neither of those things is the object of my fantasy, anymore. There’s only one thing I don’t have that would really turn me on.
Nowadays, my idea of a sex toy is a snowblower.
Oh baby.
I want it so bad, it’s good. Link in bio to read the rest.
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