Mourning Dora

Dandy and I went on a trip over spring break. A lovely sex-soaked, whirlwind of over-eating and intoxication through the most decadent city in the world: New Orleans. We returned on a foggy Tuesday night, jet lagged and hung over and more in love than before. But our idyll was shattered the next morning with the realization that we'd left Dora behind.

Dora has held a special place in my heart since the moment I saw her in the shop window three years ago. I'd been spending a lazy Saturday shopping on Valencia Street, enjoying the sun and new-found Singledom. I'd just moved to the City and broken up with my last horror-story Albuquerque girlfriend, and was still enthralled by the novelty of living away from home for the first time. I saw her first out of the corner of my eye, with a sale price prominently displayed. I stood for a moment, transfixed, and rushed into the shop. A moment later emerged, having forked over a significant chunk of my weeks' paycheck, triumphant and holding aloft, shinning and purple; my very first dildo.

I was working as a nanny at the time so I named her after a particularly addicting childrens cartoon, Dora the Explorer. It seemed appropriate at the time.

"I guess we accidentally kicked her under the bed or something the last time we used her." Dandy postulated mournfully over the phone the evening after our return.

"I checked under the bed before we left, I can't see how I missed her." I sulked back.

Dandy sighed "well, there's nothing we can do about it now."

"We could try calling the hotel." I said hopefully.

"Baby, she still had a condom on, they probably just threw her away when they cleaned the room." She reasoned sympathetically. "I'll pay half for a new one okay? Since it was half my fault. We'll call her Dora the Second" She joked weakly.

"Sure." I sullenly agreed.

We chatted a while longer and said good-night.

I lay in bed, wakeful. I didn't want a new one. I thought childishly, I want my Dora. I mourned her for days. It still makes me sad to think I will never feel the heft of her in my closed fist, or her cool smoothness as I strap her into place. It breaks my heart to think that my Dora, my other half and I, will never again fuck somebody silly.

"New Orleans is hard on toys." My roommate sympathized. "I lost one when I was there last year with Degan."

Small comfort then. This is dedicated to my Dora, dearly loved, and sorely missed.