Walk of Shame?

234 Marbles
No sex is better than bad sex.  
Germaine Greer

    I was making my bed this morning when a pink rabbit flopped out of the duvet.  Apparently I had come home from work and gone to sleep with my battery-operated device.  I went to bed stone sober so I shouldn’t have been surprised to find it there on the empty side of the bed - I was merely shocked that I hadn’t put it away and thankful that my kids were at their Dad’s (that would have been an interesting to try to explain if my son had jumped in bed with me this morning).  And, let’s face it, the rabbit looks way less attractive in the glare of the morning light. 
    I noted a modicum of morning-after shame as I performed ablutions before I tucked the rabbit away in my drawer.  A small part of me wondered – “So is this what it has come to?”  I know that this time of celibacy is self-imposed, but let’s face it, I’m not getting any younger.  Is it really a good idea for me to be celibate a whole 365 marbles? Besides, what if it isn’t like riding a bike?  What if I forget how to do it? 
    My only consolation comes from knowing a woman in her eighties who recently lost her husband.  Among all the things that she misses about him, she misses their sex life together.  The thought of her somehow comforts me into knowing that passion doesn’t have to fade even as the marbles tick by.

In our culture, it is expected that men will satisfy themselves sexually when they are with a partner or when they are completely solo.  Can you claim this act for yourself and lose the shame? Can you let go of the expectation that there always has to be someone else with you for me to express your sexuality?