There’s this commercial that has always bugged the bejeezuz out of me. A woman is sitting in bed with her husband (or significant other...I should not assume) and his nose is buried in a book. She begins to extol the virtues of a particular personal lubricant, and when she mentions it’s a “warming” lube, suddenly his nose is out of the book and he raises an eyebrow.

It bugs me; I don’t know why. But nearly every danged time I see it my immediate thought is “Lady, grab some Ben Gay and slather that on his goodies. Not only will he put the book down, he’ll probably make a whole lot of noise and will even dance for you!”

He would, too. I have it on good authority that Ben Gay in the crotch is An Experience. One you never want to have more than once, and ideally, never.
But oh. Warm lubricant, that’s a whole other thing. Quite different than warming lubricant... Yesterday I encountered some of the warm slippery stuff, and it was NICE.

Yesterday I had an abdominal ultrasound. They peeked at just about everything in the general area: pancreas, liver, kidneys, and gall bladder, but in truth we really just want to know if my gall bladder is loaded with stones or sludge or tiny little men with lit matches and sharp knives.

I won’t know the results until next week when I see my brand new “regular” doc, but damn...the tech doing the exam used very warm KY Jelly, and that was nice.

Really nice.
Ultra-terrific nice.

Between it and the wand she had to rub all over my abdomen and side, it felt like getting a nice massage, without the obligation to leave a tip.
I am totally in favor of warm lubricant.

Stupid commercials, not so much.

And avoid the Ben Gay thing. Grown men especially aren’t very attractive when they’re crying like babies, holding onto their goodies while jumping around the room.

Amusing, yes; attractive, no.

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