Jacques Cousteau

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If you’ve ever wondered who/what/wtf is that stuffed shark in the photo, let me introduce you to Jacques Cousteau. My stuffed shark. And sleeping partner of 10 years.

When I was a very small child, like 3, I was obsessed with sharks. Obsessed. With sharks. Did I mention I was a 3-year-old girl? I’ve always been weird. It was my first obsession. Shortly to be followed by my second, Nadia Comanici and gymnastics. But sharks always stuck. They are dear to me. I adore them.

One day I was walking to the Lyon Street Stairs, in San Francisco. I walked there all the time, climbing hills and stairs in a perfect 45 minute cardio work-out that I loved doing. The views are epic. I always passed a toy store. But this one day I found myself pulled into the shop, walked straight back to this hidden basket full of stuffed sharks. Jacques was staring out from a sea of other inanimate, soul-less stuffed sharks. He was waiting for me. I grabbed him and hugged him close. I didn’t have my wallet with me. I took him to the counter and asked the person to hold him while I ran and got money. The person obliged but clearly thought I was insane, there was a huge basket full of sharks. They didn’t know that he was my Jacques. That he was extremely sentient, for a stuffed animal. I ran home, not literally but I walked very fast. I returned and purchased him. I carried him home in my arms, like a child. Did I mention this happened 10 years ago, when I was 35? Yeah, I have always been weird.

I’ve been sleeping with Jacquey ever since. I went to Iceland for the first time only a month after finding him and he asked to go. With his eyes, he can’t talk! So now he travels with me when I go on trips. Nothing makes people leave you alone on an airplane more than being an adult with a stuffed animal in your arms! Although I did once spend most of a flight hanging out with several children, who liked Jacques and me, in a blanket fort. Best flight ever.

I’d love to find a man to sleep with. Actually sleep. Sure, after hours of amazing sex. But it’s been over 3 years since I’ve slept with someone. Other than Jacquey that is.

I miss it. A lot. Having someone there, feeling skin on skin, hearing their breathing. Snoring. I’d be so glad to hear some fucking snoring. That’s how long it’s been.  Jacques is a great cuddler but he is very quiet.

And he can’t wait to go back to Iceland.

So that’s the story of Jacques. And my almost empty bed. He’s better than nothing. But damn, I want a fucking man in my bed. All night long.

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