[ or “What about B.O.B?’]
I have been, shall we say, celibate for a long time. A long time….
But I have B.O.B. [Battery Operated Boyfriend].
Now that’s fine when you need to, um … uh… how shall I put this….take the edge off, as it were. But sitting B.O.B. across a candlelit table for a romantic meal just doesn’t cut it. B.O.B. can’t cuddle up with me on the couch to watch a movie. He can’t make Sunday breakfast for or with me….. And I can’t spoon with B.O.B. in bed at night.
B.O.B. is a lousy conversationalist—and he doesn’t laugh at Jon Stewart with me [he really has no sense of humor—and that is so important to me].
I’d probably get arrested if I took B.O.B. to watch the sunset at the beach. At the very least hauled off to the loony bin…..
And every once in awhile he just conks out on me.
This is a real dilemma ladies.