The One with the Sex Toys

This weekend was certainly interesting and a little scary.

On Saturday, a friend invited me to joint birthday party for her and another friend of mine. On the invitations it described the event as a “home novelties” party. I thought it was going to be party showcasing and selling tupperware or jewelry. Oh boy, was I wrong. I walked in and immediately noticed two things, all the guests were girls, and they all looked uncomfortable. A quick glance around told me why. Penises. There were penises on the coffee table. My friend threw a sex toy party for her birthday.

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Our first task after we were seated was to introduce ourselves and describe how we “like our sex” by using an adjective that matches the first letter of our name. My name starts with a ‘B’ so…I said “beastly”, and that’s what they called me for two hours during the demonstration. For a virgin, of which there were maybe two or three in attendance, it was an awkward experience. I cannot unsee those images. Did I mention they passed all the “products” around? I didn’t know where to look half the time. I know I sound like a prude, but I don’t judge people who use those products, I just would never think to broadcast my use or throw a party about it, especially for my birthday.

My friend hosted this party so she could purchase, um…a new friend…at a discounted price. Most girls were buying products, and I just sat there, a poor virgin who can’t even afford some of the cool spa products they sell. I’m not sure if the party generated enough credit for her to buy herself a birthday present, but I’m pretty sure the coffee mug I got her was not what she was looking for.

After the party, we went to dinner and then to a bar called Arizona Pete in Greensboro, NC. The bar was as country as it gets, complete with a mechanical bull and barrels for tables. I’m not a country girl at all, so when I walked in I was a bit disappointed. But it turned out to be fun. The DJ wasn’t anything to shake a stick at (or shake your anything at) but once you get tipsy enough, the music doesn’t matter so much. I say all this to tell you that I didn’t leave for home until 3:30am.

I knew I was taking a risk by driving home so late, but I felt sober and alert so I started home anyway. Big mistake. Not long into my drive, I zoned out for a minute and ran off the road, or really the road ran out. I didn’t realize the road was ending in a T intersection and ended up in a man’s front yard, which was still covered in snow and ice. I remember thinking, “Don’t hit the tree.” and “You’re not going to stop in time.” Thankfully, I did stop before hitting the front of the brick house. I waited for a minute for someone to come out of the house and yell at me for being in their yard, but no one did. I got out of the car and checked for damage, but since I didn’t hit anything, there wasn’t any that I could see. I did worry that my brakes wouldn’t work, but they do, although I’m sure I need to get them checked now. After a few minutes of hyperventilating and praying, I backed up onto the road again.

I made it home safely, but I could have very easily died that night. This experience scared me straight; I definitely won’t be driving that late anymore.

Beck

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