Vibrators and the Art of Gift Giving, part two.

You remember yesterday, when we started talking about this, yes? And then I totally acted the cock tease? Well, let’s have some…happy ending.

Where were we? Ah, yes. The vibrator. This was given to me for my 31st birthday by my best friend. I have no idea what she was thinking, except that she knew I would always be too cheap to buy one for myself. Besides, as I’d said for years, “I don’t think I really NEED one of those. I’ve pretty much got it covered.”

But there it was, in a tall, skinny Hustler store bag. I pulled it out of the surrounding tissue paper as she stood there wearing a wide, devilish grin.

“Uh…I don’t…know…if…”
“Amy, trust me. You need this.”
“Trust me.”

If I could have returned it for store credit, I’d have traded it in for some nice whore shoes. However, she’d spent a lot of money on the thing. She’d gotten me the Mercedes of vibrators. I couldn’t just return it. It would be rude and her feelings would be hurt when she eventually found out.

It sat unopened in my house for months. The slightly incriminating box hiding in a dresser somewhere, just waiting for mom to stumble upon it during a visit. Wouldn’t that be the way? I finally own one of those things, and it embarrasses me before I even take it out of the box? Stupid, unsettling, daunting piece of machinery.

I eventually got curious. I always eventually get curious. One day, it’s going to be the death of me.

I took the batteries out of my DVD player remote and put them into the little gray controller for The Machine. I flicked the controller on and The Machine became something out of a Kubrick film, all vibration and circular motion and rotating beads. It was like a lollipop from Hell. I couldn’t believe people take these things seriously.

“She’s kidding me. She does not seriously expect me to use this. I am being punked.”

“SO! Have you used it yet?!” she asked excitedly.

“Uh…it’s…this is a lot of hardware…”

“You’ll get to it.”

Honestly. She’s 10 years younger than I am and frequently knows what I need better than I do. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d be tempted to stab her in the face.

Readers, I did eventually get to it, just like she knew I would. Eventually, the curiosity won. She was right. It was whole new world. The neighbors probably thought someone was being murdered.

And that, my friends, is the spirit of giving. Someone knowing you well enough to know what you need, even when you keep not realizing it. My best friend looked at me, thought something needed to be set free, and knew how to do it. Christmas isn’t just for good sense and gift cards.


One thought on “Vibrators and the Art of Gift Giving, part two.

  1. I once used a loaf of hot Italian bread to, ehem, do “it.” I carved out an inviting hole, and basted it with butter. Next, I heated the loaf in the microwave. The first time worked like a charm. As the dough rose, so did I, and the climax was nothing short of tasty. This is not to imply that I ate it afterwards, or recycled it for that matter. That would be far too cannibalistic. We were bonded that bread and I. The next time, however, in my eager enthusiasm, I heated the loaf just a little too much. I’ve never done that again. Occasionally, I think of that first time though, at a good restaurant, in a bakery, when dining. Got to go now, feeling hungry. (;-)

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