C19H28O2

Today I felt like a man. I thought about sex every three minutes. What a buzz!

What's going on? The production of the magic hormon C19H28O2 must be at a peak. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, it's the hormone that protects you from cellulite, that stimulates your immune system and helps women produce oestrogen. O yes. Testosteron. Give it to my baby.

The life of modern times verile men must be living hell. What happens when you think 480 times about sex a day? Now I know. You can't concentrate during meetings. I'm looking at my colleagues and thinking what they'd be like in private. They talk and I'm not listening. I'm staring. Thinking, think-ing, th-ink-ing. Whoops. You were saying? ... You don't even care if the object of your lust is goodlooking or tall. I swear to God, if you are thinking about sex every three minutes of the day, they can wear white socks, be bald or have no taste for humour whatsoever, you'd still give it a try.

But then there's the men that really interest you. The ones you imagine actually having a conversation with when the veil of lust is lifted and you find yourselves a bit maladroit with all your wanting. I can think of 4 men that I would want to sleep with right now and talk to in the morning - or whenever I would be able to open my eyes once I get some decent sleep. Three of them I know from work and the other one I met yesterday. Like that. He came over to talk to me and I couldn't stop talking back. When I left he asked me whether he would see me back and I said: "yes, probably" - I am full of words and my action well is running dry. Still, big chance that he will trace me down. I looked like a million bucks yesterday. It's all that testosteron, I tell you. Mamma mia.