1. I have heard stories that using a vibrator too much can desensitize the delicate area "down there." Men have enough trouble getting women off as it is, and I have an addictive personality to boot, so why risk it?
2. I didn't want to get used to a piece of machinery that might end up feeling better than the real thing (I mean, men can go at turbo speed, but only for so long).
3. The logistics of purchasing one were tricky. Buying online was risky, because I get all packages delivered to work and with my luck the vibrator would arrive on a day I was out sick and my boss was expecting an important delivery and opening all boxes that crossed my desk. Besides, I can't even buy shoes online for fear they won't fit right, much less something like this. As for getting one from one of the numerous sex shops downtown, even when I have peeked into the most women-friendly ones, I have always felt squirmy and spotlit and ended up backing away before some cheery employee could show me the latest clit stimulator, as if demonstrating something as innocuous as tupperware.
I admit, it's a little strange for someone who is so open about things like bondage and blowjobs and one night stands to be rather shy when it comes to vibrators. Hey, we all have our quirks.
Friday night, after dinner at an Italian restaurant in the West Village, BF David and I decided to see what one of the neighborhood's fine purveyors of kink had to offer.
The store had high ceilings, garish bright lighting, and even though there wasn't any dirt that I could see, there was something about the place that seemed rather stale and dated. Maybe it was the books on sexual positions that featured a man with Saturday Night Fever hair and a woman with (*gasp*) real breasts. Maybe it was the dusty tubes of penis-shaped lipsticks in frosty colors that were worn back in the days of shoulder pads. In a way, I found the retro, slightly shady atmosphere comforting. I didn't even mind when a young-but-weathered looking woman with scars from what looked like razor cuts on her exposed shoulders came over to me and started telling me about the various brands of butt plugs. I felt squirmy, but didn't back out of the store when another employee turned on a Pocket Rocket and waved it in front of me when I enquired to BF David, "why would anybody want a vibrator that small?"
Having BF David there made being in a sex shop fun instead of awkward. We laughed at the thongs for men. We cringed at the latex replica of a human fist.
"What do you think of that one?" he asked, pointing to a particularly well-endowed dildo.
"What about it?"
"I mean, do you think it's too big?"
"Depends on how long you'd be out of town."
The longer we were there, the more comfortable I felt to show my honest opinion toward the merchandise. I enthusiastically pointed out a vibrator with that could make for a promising future purchase. I scoffed at the limited variety of nipple clamps. I examined the fuzzyy handcuffs with great concentration, impressed by the range of colors and patterns but not the shoddy quality of the cuffs themselves.
I felt bold enough to take down one of the riding crops, to see how it felt in my hand.
"It's a little too big," I said, slapping it against the palm of my hand.
"Why not just get a bigger one?" The salesperson encouraged me.
I shook my head. "It's not the one I want." I hung up the riding crop and turned to BF David. "They need a better selection of riding crops here."
I ended up with a couple of new bedroom accessories which made for a very... stimulating long weekend. The toys weren't introduced to "spice things up" (rest assured, said things are plenty spicy as is), but to add a new dimension to our intimacy. And what do you know, it worked! BF David and I have been exchanging secret, sexy smiles ever since.
Shopping for sex toys with a significant other is something I highly recommend, especially if you are going to get to spend the following three nights in bed together.
Be sure to get extra condoms and baby wipes.