I was eating a banana the other day and it reminded me that it’s been a long time since I’ve interacted with a male organ. (Oh no she didn’t!) I’m sorry to have to be so blunt about it but it is a fact of my life: I have given it up, at least for now. Why? Because I’ve wasted way too much time interacting with it. It might be true that cock has attempted to ruin my life. Sure, maybe it was the great conversation, the memorable moments in movie theaters, the restaurants, the running on the beach in the rain, the champagne, the flowers, the hugs, the laughter, or maybe, you know, it was the cock.

It wasn’t really until I saw the Eat, Pray, Love trailer that these thoughts began to circulate and form a conclusion – maybe a conclusion I don’t really want to reach.

I never read the book because I don’t like being an Oprah demographic. It isn’t that I have anything against Oprah – I love Oprah. I am just a rigid skeptic. I don’t go in for religious or “spiritual” stuff. I’m a science gal through and through. But you know what? What’s so bad about this sort of thing? When she says “Since I was fifteen I was either been with a guy or breaking up with a guy” and I have to say – yeah, me too. What’s with all of the cockcentric living?

And so I’ve given up the cock. At least for now. And it’s shown me a lot of great things – like I can be a full time mom, like I can work hard every day and not feel guilty for being successful. Maybe my life doesn’t have any room for a big old cock. Big sigh.

The last serious relationship I had broke my heart so completely that it made me think that I would never be able to believe in love again. And it’s true. In many respects, a door has closed. Trust was a hard fought thing for me to begin with, but this dude was leading a double life and sleeping with all of his ex-wives and ex-girlfriends the whole time. I didn’t find out about it until much, much later. It was the second of two heartbreaks; at least the first one was kind of normal by comparison. I wanted someone I couldn’t have. That’s really the long and short of it. Insert deep and meaningful psychological explanation here.

And so, after the tears and the “healing” I had to wonder, was it the guy or was it that stiffy? I don’t have the answer, I really don’t. I just wonder about it now. How much of our love and desire is wrapped up in our bodily organs?

Food for thought, so to speak. And by the way, I do miss the conversation and the laughter and the running on the beach in the rain and the bookstores and the movie theaters and all of it. I even miss the cock when you get right down to it. But hey, it’s time to eat, pray, and love – and forget the manufactured happy ending I’m never ever going to get.

p.s. I don’t think, you know, for the record that I ever really did run on the beach in the rain. Something for the bucket list.