Such profound humiliation, such all-consuming shame!
The buzzing from the bathroom has finally been explained.
That was no electric toothbrush, no facial scrub device.
Now I finally know the meaning of the words, “Tim, that was nice!”
We used two different positions every other Sunday night.
All the writhing, moaning, sighing, I thought I was doing it right.
But as I drifted off to slumber thinking I had brought her joy,
She would slink off to the bathroom with that blasted plastic toy.
Oh the buzzing, cursed buzzing! That damn incessant hum!
I used to think I was a hero. Can’t believe she didn’t come …
To tell me that she needed so much more than I could give.
Now the buzzing from the bathroom tells the lie that we both live.
What is pleasure but a union when with one soul another joins?
Yet I’m haunted by the buzzing from the bathroom like tinnitus of the loins.