An Open Letter To My G-Spot
Gee G-Spot, you sure know how to disappoint a girl. First you exclaim your existence to the world. Then you hide as my fellow ladies are poked and prodded in search of you. One day you promise earth-shattering orgasms, the next you disappear without a trace. A recent review of over 100 studies into your existence has come to the conclusion that there is no proof of it. That you don’t exist. But I don’t think this is the last we’ll hear about you, g-spot. You’ll lay low awhile and then pop back up again, taunting us. Why do you continue to play these games with our emotions? Do you find it humorous that millions of us ladies spend days and nights pondering where you are?
Well, I am absolutely fed up with this game now. I will have you know that I haven’t missed you all of these years. Clitoris and I have become besties. From now on, when we have sleepovers, you are uninvited! (Not that you ever showed up or sent a polite “unable to attend.”) Matter of fact, giving up on looking for you may be the best choice I have ever made in my life. You have been hogging the spotlight for so many years that it’s time I gave my attention to those who appreciate it.
I am writing you this letter to let you know that I am officially moving on. And it’s not me — it’s you. You can’t decide if you want to be or not be. And that’s cool because I’m not here to judge. Some part of me doesn’t blame you for hiding away. I couldn’t handle being responsible for delivering millions of mind-blowing experiences daily. We don’t even ask that much from Santa Claus and I’ve always thought he was overworked. If ever you do decide to surface — and stay for good – I’ll be here. Just don’t expect me to come looking for you any longer.