That’s the question I was faced with the other night… and after a decade of marriage, I chose to clean my oven. (Sadly, that’s not a metaphor.)
Recently, I went to a sex party, which one of my friends was co-hosting. Upon entering, I was quickly introduced to the “Sexpert.”
“Jenny this is Julie, she is a penis expert.” No joke, that’s how she was introduced. This made me wonder: why people don’t introduce me as something cooler?
“That’s funny. I’m somewhat of a penis expert myself,” I said, buffing my nails on my shirt as if cleaning an apple. Then I blathered something about not being a pro like her, because I didn’t want to jeopardize my amateur status. You know, for the Olympics? Jenny what the hell are you talking about? Did you just mention the Olympics? The Olympics of what – hand-jobs? Just shut up, already.
Sometimes when I’m uncomfortable I use exaggerated humor to fill conversational gaps. Did I say use? I meant abuse, like in the form of an oddly misplaced stand-up routine, which can become painful to watch and often requires more than a two drink minimum.
“Oh, what do you do?” she asked, not knowing what to make of my schtick. “Are you a urologist or something?”
“No, I’m just a slut.“
Really, Jenny? Did you just say that? What’s the matter with you?
“I’m not really a slut, I’ve just… seen a penis or two in my day.” Well, that fixed it.
Now, if someone could offer me a drink or something, I could make some un-PC reference like, “No thanks I got drunk on the ride over.”
Ba-dum-bum… please don’t forget to tip your waitress.
Leaving me to recover from my awkward comedic spewing, Julie went off to set up her consortium of vibrators and other paraphernalia. I soon realized that my party mates were intrigued by Julie’s products and the impact they could have on their sex lives.
I had originally pegged these girls as tame and conservative, but those are the ones you gotta look out for. By the sheer gleam in their eyes, I would wager that all of them signed on after reading Fifty Shades of Grey, at least one had a secret playroom, and maybe two more frequently used a “safe-word.”
Should I be intrigued by these items as well? Nope, I’m an observer. I’m just here for research. Of course, that implies that any purchases are write-offs. So, I may have to buy something. I mean, who aside from a hooker can write-off a vibrator?
Our instructor pulled out the “Bunny” the “Koala Bear,” the “Humming Bird,” and the “Elephant.” Why are they all animals? I rarely think of animals when I’m trying to have an orgasm. (Unless, they’re just costumes with Brad Pitt underneath.)
Finally, she pulled out what she called The Mother of all Vibrators – the “Octopus:” it had so many arms, too many arms (if you catch my drift). Plus, so many options… It was the Swiss Army knife of sex toys.
It wiggled, jiggled, pumped, undulated, swerved, lurved, fluxed, rolled, snorfed, found your G spot, changed a flat, and updated your Facebook status after every orgasm. She went on to show us the features, and mid sentence she dunked it in her latte. “Did I mention it’s waterproof?” She giggled as she used it to refroth her milk.
I was somewhere between: Yuck and that could be useful.
“I appropriately dub thee: The Divorcer,” I said getting a laugh out of my party mates.
So, I left with the urge to come home and show my husband that we didn’t NEED to enhance our already perfect, albeit infrequent, sex life with toys.
However, when I got home, the first thing I did was clean my oven – and I don’t mean that metaphorically.
You see, I’d left my oven on self-clean and my house smelled as if it had been broiled. How could I, in good conscience, go to bed or “to bed,” without wiping off the residue? (It wasn’t like the residue would still be there in the morning.)
A decade ago, the answer to “sex or oven cleaning?” would’ve been a no-brainer. But, after 10 years of marriage many of us can flip that switch to off, faster than we can run to a crying kid at 3AM (and that’s fast).
So, there I stood, well crouched, tipsy, children in bed, at 11pm, in white skinny jeans and stilettos – cleaning my oven. If my hubby hadn’t been fast asleep since 9:30, he may have stumbled onto the Skinemax scene that was going on in our kitchen.
Though to be fair, if he would’ve walked in on this scene… (after a decade of marriage) he wouldn’t even notice. Hmmm, maybe our sex life could use some enhancing… that or we just need a better cleaning lady.
Tap, tap… is this thing on?
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Hahahahaha! That made me laugh out loud! Thank you =)
You. Crack. Me. Up.
My husband and I have been married for over 13 years. It can definitely become dull. My best tip: the woman needs to read about sex. You don’t need toys or body chocolate (though the latter may not hurt), just mental stimulation and a touch of imagination.
Thanks danielle and Tanya. So glad you liked… Yes, edible body chocolate or frankly any type of chocolate doesn’t hurt.
That’s funny. It is amazing (and depressing) how much our sex drive diminishes over the years.
A new toy might have added some excitement. For a few days.
This is hilarious!!!
I’ve never actually been to one of those parties. My friends only like to sell organizational items and jewelry. Bummer.
Neena and brett well the toy party certainly gave me more fodder than the jewelry parties I’ve been to. And if a toy stays fun for more than a couple days then it’s got one up on my kids toys.
OMG your description of the “Octopus” had me really laughing out loud. Seems like after 50 Shades of Grey, it is like people are rediscovering sex, toys, and games.
Wouldn’t it have been funny if you said “Have that one, have that one, that one wears out too easy, that one pinches…. ” You would have been the most popular mommy at the party! LOL
Shelley I wish I would have thought of at. It’s not like I could have embarrassed myself any more right?
HYSTERICAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AND KNOWING WHO A FEW OF THE “PARTY MATES” WERE—MAKES THAT PART EVEN FUNNIER WHEN YOU REFERENCE THE GLEAM IN THE EYES AND PERHAPS A SECRET ROOM!!!!!!!! LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:)
Thanks PVD, you are always too kind. I think more peeps have secret rooms now than ever. If only I had space for my treadmill, let alone a couple’s swing. LOL
I just want to clarify that I’m a different Julie that’s a Hairstylist, and definitely not a “Penis Expert!” Although, I have been told I do give an exceptional “Blow” which (more often than not) constitutes a “Happy Ending!” LOL!!!
Oh, Julie. I don’t know what to make of that. I’ve heard you give a good blow and I had no idea you were a hairstylist!
Glad to know that I’m not the only one that uses/abuses humour and regret it AT THAT VERY MOMENT but yet can’t stop myself! Last night I was at a bridal shower for a friend who is renewing vows on their 40th anniv. I was 20 yrs younger than most women there and keep making STUPID remarks about the bride needing to get a portable pole! Really hilarous stuff, but my humour was not fully appreciated by women w/incontinence issues and knee problems. WHY COULDN’T I SHUT UP?
If you and I hung out together we would be dangerous!!
Because it’s easier to spew it all out. Frankly, a portable pole could come in handy. Pole dance – break a hip – use it as a cane. Multi-purpose!
OMgoodness. that was hysterical. while I don’t think of myself as a prude, I just might have died of embarrassment. *LOL*
Too funny!
Clean the oven or have sex?
Whatever ended up happening, I hope you ended up dizzy and disoriented, and that you properly cleaned up afterwards. 😀
The Retirement Chronicles
Well, the fumes made me dizzy and disoriented. That’s close enough, right?
This entire story represents exactly what a sex party should be all about. Perfect and full of vibrations~
Rebecca
I love your sense of humor! This post was really funny and had me laughing out lout! Thanks for the jolt of laughter it really is the best way to begin my day…
All I can tell you it brought back fond memories of other sex toy parties. See we’re not all as stuffy as you think. If my head didn’t hurt I would have laughed out loud, but I was afraid I might hurt myself. Loved it.
HILARIOUS! You cracked me up with that post. Too funny! (My first time visit, but definitely coming back!)
Welcome Nadine and Ashley. Glad you enjoyed!!! Those parties are way scarier than haunted houses!
Cherie – ahem – Mom, could you not read my sex posts!!! That’s almost as embarrassing as the vibrating underwear I had to put on over my pants and wear throughout her speech!!!
I’m a bit confused. Lately there has been a lot of promotion of the ‘women can multitask’, so that let me to believe that sex and oven cleaning could be done at the same time.
Henrik you are so right. I do talk about multitasking a lot how did I not figure out a way to do both? Ehh once your head is stuck in a fuming oven I think the mood is lost!
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Natalie – always happy to be on your site… You have excellent taste.
Ah you make me laugh lady, thank you. Julie the Penis Expert. Her parents must be so proud.
Weeza lololol too funny.
Oh, wow, that was hilarious! I would like to think we are all a little bit of a penis expert.
Emma please we rock the penis. At least thats what I always say, which goes over well unless I’m at a PTA meeting.
Maybe oven cleaning = aphrodisiac?
This is HILARIOUS! I so get it, which is what made it even funnier!
I went to one of those parties once, too. WOW!
Tonya Hmmm, well it would depend on how clean you could get it. LOL
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wow, i reallllly enjoyed this. My first sex toy party was UNCOMFORTABLE as I had done quite well to come off as a prude in my everyday life. I was that “quiet one” you speak of.
Jenny baby! Great story. My wife and I will have been married 13 years tomorrow, and though that’s quite a stint, I still want to clean her oven most every night (she doesn’t quite see things the same as me). In fact, if you asked her, she would say she doesn’t need an octopus because she spends enough time slapping all my hands away as it is. She just needs more alcohol. More alcohol is always the answer!
Keep the train rollin’.
TheRealBarman
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Awesome story Jenny! I too suffer from that thing where I say one thing that is truly funny and then can’t stop, even though I clearly should. I justify it by reminding myself (and others) how funny I am. The others sometimes just smirk, semi-politely. Whatever.
It’s official – you should be my new best friend. You crack me up!
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This story is too much. All I can think about is you drunk-cleaning your oven in white skinny jeans. All I can think about is you cleaning your oven. And your husband not saying, ‘I’d like to clean your oven.’ Because that’s what mine would say. Because I don’t actually clean ovens. Plus also why do those sex ladies giggle so much? Its creepy.
I totally would have cleaned my oven too. And I’ve only been married for 6years. Know what makes those parties even more awkward? When it’s hosted by a coworker. And you’re pregnant and can’t drink…
Your comment absolutely cracked me up. Oh to write this same story from that perspective.
When my kids ask me to do 3 million things at once I sometimes tell them, “I’m not an octopus.”
From here on out I think I’ll just say, “Kids, I’m not the Mother of All Vibrators.”
That should shut em up.
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