To Penny, it was unlikely that girls like these—thin, doe-eyed, clear-skinned—would have any problem finding men who’d romance them. They were the last women who’d need to buy Maxwell’s throbbing whatchamacallits.
Suddenly, Penny envisioned a billion lonely wives or single women abusing themselves in isolated resignation. In ghetto tenements or tumbledown farmhousess. Not bothering to meet potential partners. Living and dying with no intimate companions beyond their Beautiful You gadgetry. Instead of being either whores or Madonnas, they’d become celibates who diddled a lot. To Penny that didn’t seem like social progress.
The television commercial ended with the familiar tagline; a dulcet female voice intoned, “A billion husbands are about to be replaced…”
Chuck Palahniuk 2014