Love dispenser

In front of the mirror.

I am amazed by what is happening in the UK toilets. Not that I am a fan of scatological stories, but you must admit that what is going in these white spaces are insightful. If the eyes are the mirror of the soul, maybe your arse is the reflection of your eros...

As a matter of fact, my wife reported me that in most club ladies room you are offered a great choice of tampon, lollies, mints... On my end, I am more used to the condom machines that you can find in pretty much every pub. And this is totally understandable, and advisable. In a country where the keystone of social life is the counter, you'd better be armed in case you bump into someone. Literally. But would you expect such machines at work? What a message that would be from corporate institutions to encourage their staff to copulate on premise...

And then this week-end, whilst visiting a friend of mine at work, I had to use their toilets and found this dispenser. The bespoke company is a highly respectable TV channel that evolves more certainly in the business spheres than in dating industry... No condom are to be found in here. No encouragement to lust: this company is for respectable family guys. And to be fair, the machine reflects that.

Prevention instead of healing.

No condoms but a pain killer distributor. And believe me this has nothing to do with their employee getting headaches because they would work on tough and complex topics. No. This machine, like those in pubs, is here to ensure that their male staff will have a blossoming sexual life, at home. Not sure to follow me? Now imagine that you are a TV Producer stuck in studios for hours with the most Italian gorgeous presenter in the next cubicle. Now imagine you cannot even talk to her. Not a linguistic barrier, no, only by sheer lack of time because you have the ultimate mission of covering how the über-exhilarating index of tin toys is performing in the West-Turkmenistan region.

The stimulus is on par with your frustration. So when finally you get home and that your girlfriend is there waiting for you, there is no migraine to be claimed. No escape. This is a hierarchical order, miss, you have to obey... And yet, as stated on the machine, you utterly "feel better".