Last night I went to a sex toys party.  I was invited by a new friend from my new work, and how could I possibly turn such an invitation down.  Never mind that I was significantly, substantially older than the other women there–but I was in mufti, and thus safe from detection.  Never mind, point two, that at one time in my career no less a magazine than Mademoiselle described me as–and this is a direct quote–”a specialist in psycho-sexual matters.”  I put that part of my life in mulfti too, and went as just another married lady in my perky white Banana Republic skirt.

Well!  And Well! Again! 

The rather large sales rep stacked her wares on a table, although she did keep the dildoes (of which there were many, dear reader, and they all had names) in one of those plastic storage boxes that they sell at Target.  You know, the ones with the colored lids.  Which didn’t actually match the colored dildoes.  Or the colored dildo covers.  The latter were rather lurid shades of lime and tangerine and–hey, maybe they matched the massage cream flavors. 

She sprayed our wrists and anointed our fingers and passed the vibrators down the line.  Then each of us in turn went into the bedroom to give our order in sacrosanct privacy.   Okay, here’s what I don’t get.  A group of women get together to watch a demonstration of sex toys and they’re too embarrassed then to order in public?????  How delicate can we be….

I’m not that delicate at all.  I ordered a big spongey ball for my big soaking tub.  And some creams and ointments, including one that can be used both as a massage cream and a hair conditioner.  I passed on the latex dildoes and butt plugs and magic tongues, all of which were a bit too anatomically correct for my taste. 

Because of the delicacy, I don’t know what my fellow party-goers ordered, but it seemed to me that most of the stuff there I had last seen in the windows of some shops in West Hollywood.   I recall that Playgirl   had a problem with their demographics, because while they wanted to appeal to women, it was mostly gay men that were buying the magazine.  Women, the research showed, just aren’t turned on by the same in-your-face sexuality that men are.  And I can’t help but wonder if the same is true of the lurid latex dildoes.