Before his return to Europe, Jason visited a final time and left with us some things he didn’t want to take onto the plane. These things included an ornamental knife and a large economy-sized tube of Astroglide.

“The people’s lubricant,” Dylan said.

“I enjoy this bulk version of keeping your woman moist,” I remarked. “It’s like, ‘Check it out babe, I don’t even have to get you excited. Just slap this onto ya, and we’re off to the races. With this big tube, it’ll be hours of undisrupted pleasure with zero of the usually necessary work and effort!’”

We had afterward some fun innocently placing the big boldly labelled bright purple item in random prominent positions around the house, and were privately amused every time we noticed that someone had without comment changed its location or outright hidden the tube.

When Audrey came over, I tossed the Astroglide at her and said, “Hey, Audrey, you forgot your lube.” The expression on my face was breezy, and my tone of voice was light. Emotions beginning with blitheness and warmth, passing through to bewilderment and perplexity, culminating in repulsion and alarm, flashed all across Audrey’s vivid face.

“That’s not mine!” said Audrey. “I’m not poor.” There was a surfeit of bolds and italics attached to her every uttered word. Audrey thrust the tube back at me, appalled. She said, “I’m not poor” again. I had to bite my lip pretty hard to keep from laughing, and to preserve my neutrality and coolness.

“Look, Audrey,” I said, “No judgment.”

Audrey glared.

I must mention that I do the biting lip to prevent destructive laughter thing a lot, it’s a wonder how I still have lips. Also I have no idea what did ever end up happening to that big tube of lube.