Why is it that the new arrivals in your office become a fixture of imagination?

A young bright eyed brunette girl now sits opposite one near thirty, morning hating, unshaven slob (me). She is suited and wearing the square framed glasses that make most men drool onto their keyboard day in and day out. I think I'm turning into a dirty old pervert, because my two second glimpses turns into a 5 hour sexual encounter complete with toys.

Which in turn leads me to this story.

Last night I was introduced to what women have labelled their best friend, trusted companion and confident. Unfortunately for us men, we still have to consult to a hairy slobbering beast which defecates on your rose bed and urinates in your closet, luckily for you though he only has to give a speech at your wedding.

The embarrassment for the both of us died down until after she asked if I wanted to see others. With the shock and ensuing thoughtful images exploding in my cranium that I have just stumbled upon the girl with 1,000 dildo's. As she walked to her closet, another thought that I would be soon showered in neon coloured silicon vibrating me to a slow orgasmic death.

"What .... you've had this since you were 16?"

I was the child who destroyed his toys after a few weeks, lost them in the mud or traded them with a friend. I find it hard to even keep my mobile phone for more than a month without losing it on a train. Staring down into my palms, I handled it like it was an ancient religious relic. I soon became jealous that it had probably beaten the buzzer more times than a man has for her. I handed it back to her bowing my head softly at it's idol-like status.

Then I was introduced to the girls 'Excalibur'. What has been coined as the best thing since champagne for girls was now suddenly in full view. I looked at it with alien ideals and alarming vanity.

"What the hell does this do?"

On saying this she pushes one of the 4 buttons and I watch in amazement at the "serpents tongue" flicking 1000 deaths at my own tongues now obsolete dexterity. The 3 extra buttons once activated melted the very essence that I would never be able to please another girl again. It was mesmerizing to watch the many different functions all simultaneously echo a whirring laughter at the last remaining manhood and pride I had left.

In years to come, I can see men having ball-bearings surgically inserted into their foreskin. An extra finger attached to side of their cock and having to strap AA batteries to their testicles every time Barry White was about to be played. The whole term 'push my buttons' would be renewed with blitzkrieg like advertising as the girl would be able to select a variety of functions from the males' forehead.

Would a man leave his prized PSP at home if he's going on a 3 week travel trip which would lack a majority of single women?

She smiled at me with embarrassment but said that she didn't like 'the rabbit' but rather a very basic model. When picking it up I became quite alarmed by the sensitivity of the on/off function with its dial. It immediately reminded me a news article I read that a majority of false alarms for bomb detection in airports were vibrators. I smiled retelling her the story as I asked if she travelled with it and already knowing the answer.

As I look at it with amusement, I felt my arm being squeezed. Not only was she pre-empting a military insertion, she was obviously not as shy as she thought she would be about my introduction to 'the crew'. However, I was having second thoughts, even though I now had enough devices at my disposal to make tectonic plates collide, I was a little put off by the whole thought of where the labour for man had now progressed. No longer was I that blue collared worker, who enjoyed the feeling of an earned pay cheque at the end of a few hours manual labour. Now, a creased white collared shirt along with grooming products was evident and presented before me. I could only go with the flow of conformity that the enjoyment of a snorkel dive is slowly being replaced by Bugs Bunny.

Have men become extinct at their function?

Obviously we need to adapt to this new criteria and there is going to be times when those toys aren't needed. What made me realise that at the end of my near 10 minutes of white collared amusement with her, that there was nothing left short of a vibrating tongue on my part that I could do now to accept this new found rise of the machine.

I know one good mate relies on his own personal collection to 'add to the enjoyment and experience' and my only advice to him was; "I hope you wash those things, before you use them again". I feel that they are very personal and I could not see myself purchasing a toy for my own personal use, nor buy a toy for the next time a girl stays over - I could only imagine the conversation and explanation. Great of course for the valentine's day present and the rekindling and dispersion of a sexual apartheid in ones relationship of course.

However I cannot wipe the smile from my face today at work realising my new masculine role now. Hence, I would probably fall asleep a lot sooner not having to question my 'fake-dar' post-coital. Of course there will be times when batteries aren't included, but I now know what I'm competing with in today's singles world. I'm up against a vibrating King Kong and unfortunately there is nothing I can do except enjoy my palm being massaged while trying not to recall the last time my best friend shat in the flower bed.