A few weeks ago, I was sitting upstairs on the computer at Shawna’s parents’ house, and they were watching 20/20. At first, I didn’t know what they were watching, or what channel they had it on, and I was really starting to wonder, because the first story was a tragic tale about women who suffer from… wait for it… constant sexual arousal.

So, trying not to giggle like a schoolgirl, I listened in to this informative programming. The women were crying and saying how awful their condition was, how much it affected their lives. One woman couldn’t even be kissed by her husband, because she got so turned on.

Okay, call me insensitive, but if I had this problem, I would not cry, whine, complain, grouse, grumble, object, moan… Well, okay, I might moan. What I would do, if I were so unlucky as to be burdened with constant sexual arousal, is use the hell out of it.

Clearly ashamed, one woman softly revealed how she would sometimes cry while she masturbated, and how she had to do it so often. I’m willing to cry while masturbating in exchange for an uncontrollable desire to do it often and without regard to public safety. I would go around saying, “Woo, I just can’t get enough of me.”

If I were afflicted with constant sexual arousal, I would also use it to get out of work (”I just can’t get out of bed!”) or take long lunches (aka “nooners”), and that’s only if I couldn’t get it declared a condition worthy of disability.

Sexual arousal is a spectrum, just like everything else, ranging from zero to, apparently, infinity. You are the contrast to those people who can’t get it up. You are on the good end of the scale. Smile and enjoy yourself, as well as any other willing person who comes along.