Just last week, my sister invited me to one of those home parties. You know the kind I mean - a bunch of woman gathered around in someone's living room gossiping about neighbors, drinking wine and spending money they don't have on things they don't need. Tupperware, gourmet food, candles, you name it, there's a party for it. The one my sister so graciously invited me to happened to be for a company called For Your Pleasure or something like that. Basically, it's a sex toy party.So I had to laugh when I received an email this morning from ASV reader Allison, who started her own blog. Her most recent post is titled Of Soccer Moms, Sex Toys, and Swingers [link safe for work] and contains this gem, from an email Allison received about a sex toys party she was invited to:
And for the bashful ones, they have items that aren't completely sex related. You can use the lotion as just lotion and your kids can use the swing as a play toy or at least that is what you can tell everyone you are doing with it.......purchases are made behind closed doors so no one knows what you bought.
Listen. I'm not uncomfortable with the idea of the women on my block having sex. I'm not even uncomfortable with the idea of them having kinky sex. I mean, we're not exactly Desperate Housewives, but we're no prudes, either. We have needs and desires and I am in no way uncomfortable with the fact that those needs and desires sometimes make a hardcore porn film look tame. What I am uncomfortable with is the idea that sex swings can perform dual use as a child's plaything.
There are two types of women who come to these home parties. One shows up at your door with a bottle of Vodka, her nipples made hard by the thought of five free hours without kids or husband. She'll be drunk before the order sheets are even handed out. She'll loudly ask the hostess if the strap-ons are ribbed for his pleasure. The other one shows up with a fruit/jell-O mold, wearing a house dress and smelling like broccoli casserole. She'll spend the night alternating between nervously glancing at her watch, talking about her kid's science project and avoiding direct eye contact with the hostess, especially when she demonstrates the nipple clamps. She'll be home long before the drunk women start giggling about the edible underwear.
When you're in a neighborhood - say somewhere in the Midwest - where the number of women of the jello mold nature far outweigh the women of Vodka, I suppose going with the dual-use sex toys angle is your only hope of making a decent living with the home party business. In fact, I can almost see how it would work; how otherwise demure and saintly women could be coerced into buying something meant for anal stimulation. For instance:
- A 12 inch rubber dildos packaged together with some plastic handcuffs = a ring toss game.
- Edible underwear? No...it's fruit roll ups! Put that in your kid's lunch box tomorrow.
- That imitation vagina? It's a pretty in pink toothbrush holder!
- Anal beads? Not! It's party wear for your little princess! Buy now and receive two cock rings/pretty princess rings free!
- That's not a vibrator, it's a magic wand. Locomotor Mortis!
So while the vodka ladies are exchanging tips on which double action arouser is the best bang for their buck, the jell-O mold ladies can discreetly go into the kitchen, where the hostess will take their order for one ring toss game and one Pretty Princess jewelry kit. It's a win/win situation. Little Tommy will have enough fruit roll-up to share with the whole class tomorrow and Sheila from across the street will finally have that multiple orgasm. And, having reached the magic $200 sales mark, you will get that leather bondage set at half price!
Of course, it won't work out that way. Mrs. Housedress, offended beyond reason, goes home and calls the cops. A raid ensues, complete with blaring sirens, a paddy wagon and local press asking questions like "What's a backdoor rotator? I don't get it." No one is convinced that the sex swing is really for kids.
Which is why I'm happy to be living in a place that is closer to Desperate Housewives than Little House on the Prairie. No one's really uptight about sex. I hear sex talk on line in the supermarket that would make people in less evolved cities turn to stone.
I get invited to at least one sex toy party a month. I rarely go. Not because I'm uncomfortable with the party itself, I'm just uncomfortable with watching the PTA president vomit a bottle of vodka all over the bondage display. I always order something, though. And if this town should ever turn puritan and a police raid ensues, I will hold steadfast to my claim that what they found was nothing more than a ring toss game and a few magic wands. We just love Harry Potter, officer. Engorgio!