My sister’s bachleorette party is this weekend, and although I promised her no penis-shaped necklaces or shot glasses, I still felt that no ladies night would be complete without a few raunchy-themed items. So, off I went to the local sex shop. At 1pm. On a Wednesday. And apart from the surprise that I had when I realized how many older business people frequent sex shops during their lunch hours (for much more serious purposes than mine; like the 60-something man who was having a rousing chat with the sales clerk about which lube worked- and tasted- best), I made a much more serious discovery.
I had become a complete prude.
I am not sure when it happened. In my younger days, I had candid and colourful discussions about sex without batting an eyelash. X-rated movies were no big deal to me (they were mostly just hilarious). I’ve even been to a strip club or two. But today, I was just an awkward, uncomfortable, red-faced mom trying to keep a straight face while browsing the “fetish” section (handcuffs and bondage tape and whips…oh my!).
The entire time I was in the store, I kept telling myself, “Your’re a grown adult…what is the big deal? Why are you so embarrassed?!” But I never got an answer. And thinking about it now, I still don’t quite know what has changed. Except maybe that I am older, and the novelty of it all has worn off. Or maybe it is because I spend my days worrying about potty training, math homework, and cleaning the house. There isn’t much time left to think about sex toys, erotic playing cards (??) and massage oils. And to be honest, if I am going to spend money on something these days, I’d rather spend it on a new furnace, since ours is dying a slow death. Aww yeah…now THAT’S hot.