This is Part Three 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 one last time:
If you are:
a) uncomfortable with the topic of sex toys and self-love, or
b) in any way related to me.
… please know that you are reading at your own risk. PG-13 entries will resume later this week.
Read Part One here
Read Part Two Here
“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 that vaginal barbells exist. 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.
“This one has some amazing settings, but let me show you the best way to really tell the difference…”
She walked toward me holding the buzzing device. My false veneer of bravado began to splinter as she got closer and closer. Everything started to move in slow motion at that point – I reached out my hand, saw her slowly shake her head from side to side, then watched in a state of paralysis as she lifted the machine up toward my face, adjusted the settings, and then pressed the vibrator against the tip of my nose.
This bears repeating: a complete stranger held a display model vibrator against my face.
The second I felt the vibrations, the adult toy store became a scene from The Matrix, where everyone was frozen in mid-air and the camera spun around us 360º, except instead of watching a bullet whiz by my chest, I was able to see the sound vibrations from the OrgMaster 3000 as it reached the tip of my nose.
Once time unfroze again – which seemed like hours later – all I could say was “Wow,” and inch back ever so slightly from the vibrator pressed against my face. Without taking my eyes off the sales woman, in the event that she had any other ideas about live demos, I felt around on the table blindly for one of the models she had demonstrated earlier.
I drew back a fistful of silicone and said, “Want. Buy. I go now.”
At that moment, a man walked into the store, looked at me and said, “Oh! My wife just got that model. She loves it! The best part is…”
“Sold!”
I had to get the hell out of there, and the only thing I had left, the only shred of modesty I could retain, was that I would refuse to listen to what this man’s wife did with the vibrator I was about to buy.
“Excellent choice! Pink or fuschia?”
“Fuschia?”
“Good call.”
I grabbed my discrete brown paper bag and sprinted out the door.
They say that when you share a traumatic experience with someone, it bonds you to them forever. While we may have been perfect strangers when she held that vibrator to my nose, today, I’d take a bullet for that adult toy store sales woman. I can never look her in the eyes again, but I’d totally take a bullet for her.
My first foray into the world of adult toys was an eye-opening one for me. If you can learn anything from Old John Henry and me, it’s this: you can’t fight progress, unless you want to die trying. You may as well just submit to the machines, because as history has proven, they’ll beat you time and again. And again. And again. Oh, god. And again.

If you decide to donate to RAINN as part of this awareness campaign, be sure to write “GBBMC2008” in the “More Information” box and note that you came from Run Jen Run. And if you’re interested in joining all the other bloggers promoting this cause, you can sign up at Kevin’s site through April 15th. Thanks!
Click here to donate!

Filed under: General on April 13th, 2008