I threw out my sex toys when I moved. They had gone unused for quite some time before that.
Like a really long time. I am not sure if they were even good anymore, do they expire like canned goods?
Had a moment of paranoia about the box exploding when the garbage men picked up the trash that week. It’s raining plastic men parts. Ha.
Had more than one moment of paranoia when I finally replaced them after years of letting the old ones collect dust. I went to the same store two days in a row and the girl behind the counter actually said…”wow, you’re back fast.” I blushed so hard my ears went hot. I mumbled something, tried to formulate an excuse for why I was back. Luckily she made me want out of her sightline which put me in the very back of the store. Found the good stuff.
Made me shy. Me…Sarah, sex shy???…haven’t been that in years.
I love sex, everybody knows. It’s not a secret.
I have no idea why I am twitchy about shopping for toys. I have no idea why the shop girl thought that was an appropriate thing to say.
To make things even worse, a group of girls came in behind me as said shop girl was testing the rather sizable rubbery goodness I had picked out to make sure it worked. I really wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. Or snatch the thing out of her hands like Gollum with the ring. But I stood, waited and paid. Brought a backpack the second time so I wasn’t seen with the discreet black bag.
I was mildly traumatized. Until I got home and tried it. Bliss.
Why do I have some strange shame about sex toys but not the copious amounts of actual sex I have?
And second, why the ever-loving fuck did I ever stop using them in the first place? They are amazing.
Second one is easier to answer.
I eat Kraft Dinner once a year or so. I get a hankering for it, hot dogs as well, Cheez Whiz too on soft white Wonder bread, aaaaaaand now I am hungry. I know these things are terrible for me, but I indulge regardless.
This is shaping up to be my worst comparison ever. Dildos and junkfood.
Imagine telling the man you are dating/living with that you like Mac ‘n’ Cheese now and again. Suddenly every time dinner rolls around, guess what you get…elbow macaroni with dayglow orange sauce. So I didn’t let him cook anymore, he wasn’t very good at it anyways.
I got sick of it after a while.
I got sick of him too. Constant complaining about everything ever. He just had general physical and mental weakness. That, and he couldn’t change a fucking tire. Not a turn-on.
Somehow my brain equated using toys to him.
Vagina had a Pavlovian response with an equal yet opposite dryness.
“When you are only wet because of the rain”. Tori Amos
It’s time to move along now. Go on, git.
I was talking to Young Un today. He likes a girl but the sexy spark isn’t there. He accidentally sparked this article (and a quick quickie with myself). I realized as I was comforting him saying ‘we just can’t fuck outside of our people baby boy, it feels weird.” We can’t. It does feel like alien probing. Since having this realization I don’t seem to attract ‘the others’ thank fuck. Just boys who seem to have access to an instruction manual on what I like. Either that or I am easy to read.
She doesn’t go down either. If there was ‘Head Olympics’, he would win, hands down, triple gold forever. Hurts my feelings he isn’t getting any back. She isn’t the one honey. Take it from me, I know.
Weird, I just realized I went off on a tangent to avoid talking about why I feel shame buying a vibrator (or three) alone.
Ahhh, there it is. Alone, in this case Stephen King is correct, it is the most horrible word in the English language.
I feel like I am being judged as less of a woman because I am giving off the impression no one is fucking me but me.
Damned if I do damned if I don’t. I fuck too much and I am a turbo-slut. I only fuck the turbodildo3000 and I’m a pathetic spinster.
By publishing this article, I technically win.
And suddenly I am out of eggs…the sex store is right next door to the bodega…
I have my eye on a rabbit.