Adult Entertainment

I love myself I want you to love me
When I feel down I want you above me
I search myself I want you to find me
I forget myself I want you to remind me

I don't want anybody else
When I think about you I touch myself
Ooh I don't want anybody else Oh no, oh no, oh no

I was reading a friend's Facebook page and she and another friend have been going back and forth about "battery operated boyfriends".  To buy or not to buy... that is their question.

It made me think of a blog I posted on another blog site on 10/31/2007, a few days after my birthday and right after I moved here 4 years ago. I was unemployed at the time and had a lot of time on my .... er.... hands. ;)

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This blog will probably fall into the "tmi" category but I was telling the story to a friend today and she said that it was too funny to not share with my blog friends.

My mom sent me some money for my birthday. I did the responsible thing and opened a checking account with the money so that I could have a local bank. (The bank I had in Ohio doesn't have branches here and although I can keep using it to buy things with my debit card, I can't use it to cash checks, etc.)

Then, on Monday, I was driving down a major street here and saw this store called "The Love Shack". For some bizarre and unexplained reason, I impulsively pulled into the parking lot of the store and went inside, as brazen as you please. 

I'm a grown woman. I have... needs. Part of me did it just to test myself. Part of me did it because I tossed out my last "bob" (battery operated boyfriend) before I moved because I kept having these "fears" that the movers would drop a box and out it would come and I'd be mortified that total strangers would see it. (Although, I have no problem telling total strangers that I had one, obviously.)

The store was your typical "adult" store -- movies, clothing, etc. When I walked in the door, the store was empty, as you'd expect for a mid-day weekday. A young man, mid-twenties, kind of attractive, came out of the back room and asked, "Can I help you find anything?" (Typical sales associate speak.) I said I was just looking and thanked him. (Typical customer speak.) 

I went to the back of the store where they had the battery operated things and started browsing. I had nothing specific in mind and once I started looking, realized I had no clue what I really wanted, or how I much I wanted to spend. 

But... I had spent a fair bit of time browsing and didn't want to just leave the store and have the clerk think I was some weirdo who got off on browsing in adult stores. I mean, if you go into the place, you are obviously looking for something specific. It's not like being at the mall and wandering into Bath and Body Works. At least, in my mind, I felt compelled to buy something.

So, I picked up something small and pretty ordinary. Less than $20. I boldly walked to the cash register.

The young man came out and asked if there was anything else I needed. I said no. Quickly.  Avoided eye contact.  Fumbled in my purse.

"All sales are final," he said, "Do you want to see if it works before you leave?" 

My eyes had to do that cartoon thing where they BOING out of your head and back and I felt a bit of a blush forming. It seemed like such a forward thing to ask. Did I want to see if it worked?

"It's a gift," I stammered quickly. The guy shook his head.

"No, I meant, put batteries in it and make sure it works," he clarified. 

Whew! No boomchicka moment. I had this real quick vision for a moment of a cheap porno. "Miss, do you want to make sure it works?" the young stud asks as he smooths down his porno mustache and then we disappear behind a curtain with my toy and giddy expressions on our faces. I was pretty embarrassed that I misunderstood.

"Oh, yeah. Do you have any batteries?" I asked, trying to rebound. He nodded and put them into the toy. Then, he turned it on and handed it to me to show me that it worked. I quickly touched it and nodded. He turned it off and put it into the box.

"Oh, do you have a gift bag?" I asked casually, trying to further emphasize that the toy wasn't for me. He looked at me like I had asked him if he wanted to go back and see if the toy worked.

"We don't sell gift bags. You're the first person who has ever asked," he said. I quickly nodded and handed him my debit card and then left as soon as the sale was done.

The words "do you have a gift bag?" kept ringing in my head as I drove home.

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Postscript...  I sadly tossed out that little souvenir when I moved from the beach house into my apartment for the same reason I ditched my original "little friend" -- fear that the movers would drop a box and it would bounce out.

I've had the opportunity but not the desire to replace it since then. 

The walls are thin here.  I don't want to explain the incessant buzzing sound to the landlord. :)