August 1, 2012 by Kat Richter
With our upcoming cruise just a few weeks away, it’s time to start packing. Not because I’m particularly organized when it comes to packing (and don’t even get me started on my laissez faire approach to unpacking) but because it’s only through the act of packing that I realize just how woefully unprepared I really am.
Take lingerie for example. I used to spend a lot of time window shopping for lingerie, and now that I’ve been turned onto a website site called Adam and Eve, which boasts a shockingly comprehensive selection of adult products, including lingerie and even sex toys (shock, gasp, horror!), I can go “window shopping” from the comfort of my living room.
You see, for someone who spends as much time as I do writing about men and relationships and wedding-related paraphernalia, my lingerie collection remains surprisingly scant. And sex toys? I am the proud owner of—wait for it— exactly ZERO.
I can still remember when one of my friends from college accompanied a classmate to the local sex shop. It was one of those horribly tacky places with fluorescent, day glow lettering and heart-shaped fiber optics in the window. Vibrators were purchased and even though I tried to act completely unfazed by my friend’s newest toy, I was vaguely horrified. (Then again, I had no idea why it was such a big deal to refer to the on-campus coffee shop as “The G Spot” in front of one’s parents. I thought “G Spot” was just a cute nickname for the underground establishment, which was officially named The Gopher Hole in honor of our college mascot.)
Fortunately, I’ve come a long way since then. I now own not one, not two, but four sexy babydolls, one of which resides permanently at The Wedding Date’s house buried beneath his t-shirts so as not to scandalize his children in the event that they decide to take a gander through their father’s wardrobe.
I’ve also come to accept that people have very different ways of expressing their sexuality, and even though I’m not entirely convinced that a vibrator isn’t going to malfunction and somehow burn my lady parts to a crisp, I’m no longer afraid to walk into a sex shop. (Although shopping online retains a much greater appeal, especially because the nice folks over at AdamEve.com ship their products in plain, unmarked envelopes and boxes to “preserve the privacy” of squeamish folks like Yours Truly…)
And take bondage, for example. I’ve debated for quite some time whether or not to actually include the word “bondage” in today’s post (people I go to church with read this blog! And I have dozens of high school-aged students under my charge during the school year) but I’ve always been a bit curious. I didn’t know until recently what BDSM actually stood for or that interested parties can attend regional meet ups and conferences to learn the basics, but the truth is there are a lot more people who engage in “alternative” sexual practices than you’d think and they’re perfectly nice, perfectly normal people.
I’m still refusing to read “Fifty Shades of Gray” on principle but only as a writer, not because I object to the subject matter. Because let’s face it: as long as you and your partner have a loving, trusting relationship (unlike E. L. James’s protagonists), what’s wrong with a pair of handcuffs? Or glow in the dark beaded panties? Or sex swings (especially when you can get portable, over the door models)?
Today’s post brought to you in part by Adam and Eve.