Frankencrotch
I read this Wall Street Journal article on hymen repair surgery several weeks ago, but I can’t get it out of my mind. It keeps hitting me with aftershocks of unpleasantness. I think about hymens while doing the dishes, and worse, I force my friends to talk about them an awful lot. Revirgination is a supposedly hot new fad among American women, and according to one reinvented 40-year-old virgin:
“It’s the ultimate gift for the man who has everything.”
Vomit. Rinse. Repeat.
I wouldn’t wish a second virginity on any man I’ve had sex wtih. Conversely, I cannot understand how any man could say, or even think, “I would love you more if I could make you bleed during sex.”
And I would love it (or at least be amused) if you would cum in your pants like when you were 14, and then cry on my chest a bit. So is this the new face of Romance?
Not that the women interviewed in this article sound coerced into having their hymens patched back together. It is, after all, the “ultimate gift” for the man who has everything. Shudder.
You know what I buy men who have everything? Wool socks. No one can ever have too many pairs of motherfucking wool socks.
And then there’s the whore-before-marriage angle. Silly girl, you had sex and you’re not married? Well then, you’d better stitch your flesh back together before your hungry, wanton vagina disgraces everyone you know.
“Losing your virginity is like losing a member of your family,” said Ms. Esmeralda Vanegas, owner of a New York spa that performs hymenoplasty. “We can make it seem like nothing ever happened.”
I’m sorry, but losing your virginity should never be as traumatic as losing a member of your family. And if for some freakish reason it is that traumatic, why would you pay to have it happen twice?
There is no depravity that Americans will refuse to sink to if they can make money off of it.