“This isn’t really a sexy story, but I do think it’s kinda hilarious. :)
I’ve always been the most experienced out of all of my friends; and when asked and when needed, I try to share my “wisdom.” When my friend Isabelle* (*name changed) asked me after a couple drinks what a glory hole was, I was able to give her an answer. And when Maria* called me at midnight on a Wednesday during midterms asking what to do if her first time hurt, I was the girl who assured her that it would be okay, go slow and use lube, and that foreplay was her friend.
So when Maria, Isabelle, and I returned home from our universities for the summer, I expected lots of late night gossip seshes and college stories over Starbucks–here’s what I didn’t expect:
It was a nice, not-too-hot Saturday in June, and we were at Isabelle’s house, trying to decide what to do that day. The mall and the town Starbucks were already checked off. The previous night was a crappy movie marathon. I refused to be bored on my well-earned summer break.
“So, what do you guys want to do?” I asked, stroking Isabelle’s cat and reclining on the couch.
“Actually…” Isabelle trailed off, then looked at Maria, who nodded in a supportive way. “We kind of wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure,” I said, propping myself on an elbow. “Bring it on!”
“Could you take us vibrator shopping?” Isabelle asked, blushing but eyes hopeful.
I was at a momentary loss for words. To be fair, I did possess a vibrator, but I bought in a backdoor sex shop in my incredibly liberal college town. I didn’t know where I would find one in my glorious home city.
Maria broke the silence. “We figured that if anyone had one, it would be you. Besides, I’m too damn lazy for fingers, and, and…”
“Fantasizing never works for me!” Isabelle blurted out.
“No, no, I understand, everyone’s different. We can do that today–I know where we can go,” I lie.
After searching “sex shops in _____” I find a store open that appears to be less sketch than the other Google search results (stores with names like “hoochie supply co.” and “dick festival” just didn’t seem reputable) and we hop on the subway. Maria, who is normally 100% chill, looked jittery, and Isabelle looked super excited, like a little kid going to the circus.
“Can we get ice cream too?” Isa asked.
A couple of subway stops and line changes later, we had arrived at our destination–a really trendy, upscale, crowded street in the middle of the city.
I checked the address on my phone, and sure enough, two blocks up, was a sex shop. I started making my way to the entrance and noticed Maria and Isa standing on the sidewalk, staring at the store like a cavern housing a monster.
“Fine, suit yourselves,” I told them, and basically marched in.
It was the most ostentacious, brightly-lit shop I’ve ever seen. The website was sleek and sophisticated, but the store had shelves upon shelves of obnoxious-colored dildos, dozens of vibrators, and hanging from the ceilings were blown-up sex dolls and condoms. They even had a food aisle with genitalia-shaped pasta.
“Shit,” Maria muttered behind me. My friends had followed me in.
What can only be described as a moment of silence lapsed before I strode towards the vibe aisle, remembering what we came here for.
“What’s the cheapest one?” Maria asked, as if I worked here.
“Ummm…” I picked up a couple of the smaller, less complex ones, and compared prices; I handed her a six-inch long blue one, and she gingerly took it.
“This is fifteen dollars, that’s the cheapest one I’ve seen so far. They have it in green and and in pink, but I don’t think your vagina will really care.”
Meanwhile Isa was at the back of the store where the movies and costumes were displayed. She held up a DVD titled “Foreign Exchange Fun” and studied the back cover.
“Guys, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any of these movies.”
I gave her a minute to finish reading.
Isa looked up, her eyes wide. “These weren’t in movie theatres, were they?”
I shake my head. “Damn shame,” Isa whistles.
“Alright, I take the blue one you gave me, let’s get out of here,” Maria says, heading to the cashier. Isa ended up getting the same design but in green. It was after they bought their items did they realize it wouldn’t fit inside their purses.
“Hey! Your purse is definitely big enough for both of ours,” Maria pointed out. This was true. I have a giant teal bag that I carry around for when I take my sketchbook with me or need to carry books around at college.
“Ugh, fiiiiiiiiiiiiine. I’ll carry your contraband,” and drop them in my bag. “I feel like such a mom, taking you shopping and then carting your shit around for you.”
“Yeah, but you’re like the best mom,” Isa says. “You were so brave in there.”
“There’s nothing to be brave about–it’s not like anything in there was going to hurt us, for God’s sake,” I reply.
“Except the BDSM shelf,” Maria says dryly, and we all laugh a little too hard.
And like most summer adventures, it ended with ice cream.”