Adventures in Toyland

A while back, I crossed a new line in my friendship with another girl. We didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. When we walked into the lingerie store, we only wanted to scope out the latest styles of hanky pankys; but fate had something else in store. Sex toy shopping.

It was both horrifying and liberating.

As soon as we spotted the table of “goodies” at the back of the shop, we pulled the saleswoman over for some wildly inappropriate questioning (naturally). I must admit, I was embarrassed at first. The craziest I get in the toy department is usually board games, and that’s only after a few glasses of wine. Give me a phallic-shaped toy that winds in circles when you turn it on? I’m pretty fucking lost, not to mention red-faced.

She was very patient, explaining to us each model and the subtle differences in their – ahem – effects. (I have to wonder if trying them all out is a prerequisite to the job. Not sure how their managers check up on that.) As she described each of them, I tried to picture the kind of woman who bought it.

First, we had “the lipstick.” This little jimmy was – you guessed it – in a lipstick-sized container. The lady helping us raved about its discreetness, portability, and the fact that it can charge on-the-go with its built-in USB!

Back the fuck up. First of all, why do you need a portable pleasure stick? Who the fuck is sitting at the Olive Garden wishing they had a tiny, discreet device they could whip out for a quick go before dessert? And a USB charger? Good God, I hope they wash the damned thing before plugging it into their laptop on the airplane. *Shudder*

After we grew bored of the portable lipstick lover, our eyes gravitated to the model on the far right. We stared in awe. I’m not talking the kind of awe that makes you want to grab it, run out of the store, and hop into your bed… it’s more the kind that gives you nightmares of literally busting at your most delicate seams. I don’t know what type of girls are buying this, but I am willing to bet this is not their first rodeo.

“I wouldn’t recommend that one for you girls,” the saleswoman warned us. “That’s the kind of model you, um… work your way up to.” Apparently we looked far less freaky than whatever kink-a-riffic lady rolls up demanding the deluxe edition.

Next up was a strange little ovular contraption. I didn’t understand what it was for until the nice lady clasped it between her thumb and two fingers, clenching the fingers toward the thumb in an upward motion. Oh. Yep… got it. Understood. You can stop the motion now. Really, you can stop. 

This one actually seemed fairly normal to me. With its harmless pink hue and lack of a carrying case (good to know some people can last a business trip without something battery-powered), I could see some elementary-school-teacher being a closet freak and stashing this in the drawer of her bedside table. Come on, nice girls have to keep up their sex drives, too. How else do you think they have a freaking litter of children? Naughty teachers.

At this point, we were pretty captivated. I had never given sex toys a chance, but my new-found singlehood was broadening my horizons. One of the models was even kind of beckoning me. I secretly hoped that if I stared at it long enough, it would attach itself to a dashing, wealthy, 28-year old man with a killer six pack and great sense of humor. A girl can dream.

Yes, I was feeling crazy. Excited! Free! And then, she whipped it out. The rabbit. Now who in the fuck thought that making a gigantic rubber penis with a million rotating joints, disturbingly lifelike texture and toy bunny on top was a good idea?!

I prefer to call it the life-ruiner, because there is not a single man on God’s green Earth who can stimulate and move in that many ways simultaneously. Hell, men have enough trouble patting their head and rubbing their bellies at the same time. And guess what! If you want a penis that size, you’re going to have to sleep with a fucking Sasquatch.

Personally, I think the rabbit should be available only to lesbians who have the good fortune of never relying on a man; because in real life, there are no rotating beads where the pubic hair should be. No speed adjustment settings. And absolutely no tiny bunny pecking away at your pleasure zones.

I must say, this was one of my most informative and enlightening shopping trips to date. I learned some important life lessons, including but not limited to:

1. Never trust a girl who charges her makeup.
2. There is such a thing as too big.
3. Unless you never want to enjoy another carrot again, steer clear of the rabbit.

I hope these lessons stay with you ladies. Remember to keep it classy, and keep the lipstick for your lips.

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14 thoughts on “Adventures in Toyland

  1. Oh. My. You wanna know something really weird? My husband just came back from his annual ski trip and told me all about The Rabbit his best friend bought for his wife…(who happens to be about 16 years younger than he is). My words were, “What the hell is a rabbit? What do you mean?” He said, “I don’t know, some crazy vibrating thing with a bunch of rotating parts. I told him it sounded like a torture device.” Ha! I just read your blog out loud to my husband and he cracked up. I think he was secretly thankful that you didn’t endorse The Rabbit. 😉

  2. Whitney says:

    Can’t believe both Teddy and I were made the same post!

  3. Baker Bettie says:

    Love it. I have to admit I am not shameful at all about talking about sex and sex toys. In college I discovered that I had several friends who had never acheived “the big o.” WHAT?! I was amazed. My solution: Force them to go sex toy shopping with me. I felt it my duty to fix this problem for them. Haha. Problem solved. You’re welcome!

    • You know, I must admit… never had one DURING sex. I blame my ex, obviously. One more area of deficiency.

      Looking to solve that soon 🙂

      • emdashwood says:

        I had the same problem – and it was fixed *quite quickly* post-divorce. Seems I spent the last 10 years thinking I was somehow biologically defective, when in reality… I function *absofuckingperfectly* fantastic! If I’d known it could be this good at 21 when I got married… well, I sure as hell wouldn’t have settled for 10 years of *that*. I became veeeery well acquainted with toys during my marriage. It was the only solution. Strangely enough, I left them behind when I moved out, and haven’t felt the slightest need to replace them yet 😉

      • I impatiently await the day I feel no need to shop for sex toys. I envy you!

      • emdashwood says:

        I never thought it would happen – I had completely given up! I mean, after 10 years… I believed all hope was lost… and yet – like magic – lose the loser, gain some fantastic orgasms… if only I’d done this sooner! Like, maybe the first time he screwed around? Sheesh, what a waste of 10 years!

  4. McMademoiselle Likes says:

    I have a feeling I will be looking at everybody’s laptop USB port differently from now on….

  5. Jared says:

    Haaaaaaa! This piece just made my day. I redefined “laugh out loud” for you. And that picture is ridiculously priceless.

  6. […] you need to open up. I suppose on some level, it makes sense. Somehow it’s just easier to talk about sex toys with strangers than your parents. Go […]

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