I wonder if my ex-boyfriends thought female sexuality was something to be laughed at

It is Tuesday morning. I am packing and I hate packing. 

I have to pack two bags — one for my week-long residency in the Cill Riallig Art Centre which is full of thermal vests and fleece-lined bed socks, and the other for a weekend sojourn to Dublin immediately after.

I have a date in Dublin so that bag contains ridiculous underwear of the sort that you only ever wear at the beginning of a relationship.