Having a job that involves travel sounds sexy on paper, but the reality is a bit different. Driving in unknown cities, eating crap food, never sleeping as well as you do in your own bed, and long commutes down anonymous interstate. Flying doesn’t solve this problem either – it just involves having to share your breathing air with lots of germy people and drunk men oggling your breasts.

At the end of a work day on the road I am physically and emotionally drained. I want a glass of wine, something to eat, and a couple of good orgasms.

I’m not horny in any sort of sensible way. I don’t have a particular fantasy running through my head, I don’t think about kissing or groping or fucking. Hell, I don’t even think about another person. My focus is wholly selfish and personal; I just want to get off, hard. If I had another person at my disposal in this moment, I would be the worst lover in the world. I would barely let them touch me except for a back rub and cunnilingus. After that I would banish them to cuddling, I wouldn’t even pretend I cared if they got off.

After a day of teaching, sublimating my needs for everyone around me, this sort of selfishness makes sense. My feet and legs ache, my back is throbbing, and my throat is worked hoarse from being a peppy teacher all day. All I can think about is taking my mind off of it all with bath and an orgasm.

So, after a passable dinner at a local restaurant (I’ve learned to take a chance as I can’t fathom another meal at Appleby’s) I head back to my hotel with a singular mind on my trusty vibrator. At times like this, I am too lazy to use my fingers and I know that the toy will get me off fast and well.

Fuck fuck fuck. Reason #1 to pack the night before. My vibrator is nowhere to be found and I recognize that it is probably sitting on the kitchen counter with random other things that I pulled out to pack but that never made it to my suitcase. (Sidenote: If anyone looked at my kitchen counter right now, they would think they were dealing with a psychopath. I reckon it is the home of some dirty dishes, my birth control pills, a massive purple rabbit vibrator, and a pencil sharpener. I mean to pack everything but the dirty dishes.) It seems silly but the absence of my vibrator almost brings me to tears.

Possible solutions:
1. Go solo and succumb to a meek orgasm.
2. Suck it up and ask the concierge about a sex shop nearby.
3. Blog about it while I consider the dilemma.