This is Part Two in a series of posts promoting the Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign to benefit RAINN, the Rape and Incest National Network.
Let me repeat my earlier warning:
If you are:
a) uncomfortable with the topic of sex toys and self-love, or
b) in any way related to me. You know who you are.
… please know that you are reading at your own risk. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Read Part One here

Part Two
“What can I help you find?”
I stood there silently for a moment, without turning around, then carefully slid the Tantric Sex DVD back onto the shelf, took a deep breath and exhaled, “I think I’m in the market for a vibrator.”
The sales clerk was blonde and heavily tattooed. She flashed me a smile and said, “Great, do you have anything specific in mind, or just want me to show you around?”
This was the moment I had been expecting, which was why I had spent countless hours on the Internet preparing myself to be able to talk the talk. I had done my research and was going to convince her that I was no newbie.
“I’ve heard good things about the Pearl Whisper. Do you carry it?”
She seemed a bit surprised, but said, “Oh, definitely – it’s over here.”
It became immediately clear to me that Toys in Babeland needed to add some sort of gauge – like maybe a dollar bill – next to all the photos on their site for scale purposes, because what the saleswoman lugged over to me was the size and shape of a fire hydrant. An opalescent blue fire hydrant with 12 different speeds.
My cover was blown.
“Oh my god! That’s enormous – are you kidding me?!”
She laughed out loud, “Yeah, it gets that reaction sometimes. Let me show you something else.”
She took a very serious, almost clinical approach to showing me around. It was kind of like shopping for a car, as she walked through all the features and functionality, and had me hold each model to test drive it, so to speak, as she cycled through the various settings.
The entire store was humming like a power plant. Suddenly, I felt like Goldilocks in a forest of sex toys. This one was too small, that one too big. This one had no battery life, that one was too loud.
She had no idea how completely uncomfortable I was. I was masterful in my deception. It was just like when I went to Munich in college, not knowing a word of German. I found that if you shouted and pointed with enough authority, people assumed that they were the dumb ones for not being able to understand you.
“Hey!” I yelled. “What’s that one all about? Ohmigod, is that supposed to be a rat?”
“It’s actually a dog.”
“Why does it have claws?”
There were dogs and rabbits and mice and dolphins, and it became very clear to me that I didn’t want anything with a face, let alone claws.
We rolled our eyes and laughed and bonded.
For all the fake confidence I mustered, I could still feel that my cheeks were giving me away. At one point, she picked up one of the models and fiddled with the settings a bit until she found the one she was looking for. She grabbed my hand and placed the vibrator in it.
“There. Feel that? Yeah, that’s the one. Feel the thump, thump, thump?”
I did, but I had assumed it was the vein in my temple about to burst due to the unprecedented levels of blood rushing to my face.
“What’s that?” I pointed, desperate to change the subject.
It looked like one of those clackety-clacker toys you had as a kid – two balls on the end of a string that smacked together, inevitably smashing your fingers.
“Oh – those are for your kegel exercises. You just insert that like a tampon and wear it around all day. Helps build up your muscles, and feels really nice, like a clit piercing.”
“Ah. Mmm hmm. I see.”
I was feeling light-headed, but soldiered on.
“Oh! I know what I want to show you!”
I turned around and she had one more vibrator in her hand. She adjusted this one some more, searching for something. As she walked toward me, I felt a unique sense of pride in my accomplishments. I had held almost every vibrator in the store, learned the proper techniques for the care and maintenance of glass dildos, and discovered the existence of vaginal barbells. I was confident that my level of discomfort had finally reached its plateau.
Looking back on that moment, I now realize just how naïve I was.
[To Be Continued]

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Filed under: General on April 9th, 2008