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April 14, 2008
Toys for the Attic
April is National Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month. In order to help the Rape and Incest National Network (RAINN) raise funds so they may offer online counseling to victims of sexual abuse, sexual assault and rape, members of the blogging community have banded together to lend a hand by writing posts of a specific topic. You can read all the details at Kevin Apgar's site.
If you would like to make a donation to RAINN please be sure to put GBBMC2008 and Delmer Wells, in the "more information" box as there is a chance I could win something.
For my first Sexography post I was going to tell a story about the time I purchased a vibrator for a woman friend. That story started "I once bought a vibrator ..." and just after I typed that line I realized that I have actually purchased two vibrators for women I've known, though in all fairness one friend was more in the "girl" class. A high school buddy and I pooled our resources for that purchase and bought a vibrator that, per the package, seemed to be perfect for cheek massages. It was shaped like a really big rifle bullet.
And it was a gag gift as neither of us actually thought women made use of things like that. Please keep in mind we were from small-town Ohio.
My next encounter with a vibrator would come seven or eight years later. I was at a girlfriend's house and as she and I were walking down the hall I tossed something into her room and onto her bed; the bed immediately started making a humming noise. She casually walked over, pulled the covers back, and turned a vibrator off. My first thought was, "It's midday, your parents and siblings are home, and you have a vibrator out on your bed?" That was also my last thought on it as I… well, I don't know where my mind was but I certainly didn't think she had a vibrator on her bed for any particular reason.
Oh, it was shaped like a big rifle bullet too and I'm thinking probably came in a box that would lead you to believe it was good for facial massages.
A very long time would pass before I next had any sort of vibrator awareness. That was when a woman friend mentioned that hers had broken. She had had one called a Finger and Thumb that had burned up do to overuse.
That's not true. It just quit working. And that was fine she said because whenever she turned it on the lights in the house would dim, her computer would reboot, and the neighbors would complain about the noise; it would seem she's a screamer.
One day I was out Christmas shopping, passed a Waterbeds & Stuff, and thought I'd stop in to see if they had a Finger and Thumb vibrator. I approached the clerk at the front desk and, in a hushed tone, asked for the vibrator by name. As it happens that model had been discontinued but he was kind enough to direct me to a beaded "door" through which I would find a world of other vibrators. None of which, by the way, came in a package suggesting they would be suitable for facial massages. Facials… maybe, as these guys were all shaped like big penises. Big f*cking penises. Cocks actually.
The first one the sales gal showed me was so big it led me to wonder what guy in his right might would buy something that size for a woman? Tommy Lee, maybe, if he wanted to give Pammy a break, but your average guy (as defined by Kinsey) would be an idiot to buy such a thing.
In the end I settled for something normal-human-being sized with some sort of tongue-like thing at the bottom, a spinny bit, and a universal remote that could control my friend's TiVo, stereo, television and clitoris. I also picked up a ball gag so she'd be able to self-stimulate without fear of upsetting the collie down the street.
Right about this time another female friend (it's always women that have these things) mentioned her vibrator to me. It was small enough to fit under her pillow or in her purse or, I'm guessing, in her vagina. In all fairness, she just didn't blurt out that she had a sex toy. We were on the phone and when I mentioned we seemed to have a lot of static on the line she said, "Oh, that's just my vibrator." She then asked me, in seemingly heavy breaths, what I was wearing. When I told her sweat pants and a ratty old T-shirt she gave an exited little yip and squeal that I took to mean she approved of my lounging-around wear. Shortly after that our line noise cleared and conversation turned toward the weather.
And perhaps I made some of that up; I think conversation more likely turned toward recent theater releases.
I could go on but I'm not sure how wise that would be as I'd really hate to upset anybody. Batteries only last so long and I'd like to think that some women I know keep my phone number in an enclosure marked, "In case of vibrator failure, break glass." (So far my phone remains frustratingly silent, but I still hold out hope.)
I will, however, share this snippet of conversation I had with a woman about her vibrator. She was describing the model she preferred.
"It's a Jack Hammer," she said.
"You mean, Jack Rabbit?" I asked. "
"No! A Jack Hammer," she insisted. Who was I to argue? Women seem to know their vibrators.
When I Googled for it I found you actually have to pour a footer for this model and that the manufacturer recommends you live within a 1/4 mile of a power company substation.
Posted by delmer at April 14, 2008 9:23 PM
Comments
So that explains the recent brownout in my county!
Posted by: Ginger at April 14, 2008 11:10 PM
Maybe it's time to mobilize the TVA and get an infrastructure upgrade in place.
Posted by: delmer at April 15, 2008 10:48 AM
ball gag! in case of vibrator failure break glass! hahahahaha thats something i will share with the girls at the next vibrator purchasing party
Posted by: kate at April 15, 2008 11:23 AM