Soul Searching at the Sex Shop

Last Wednesday night, I had the...uh...pleasure of of joining my friend Lauren shopping the sex shops along West 4th in the West Village. You see, she had a gay bachelor party to go to up in Boston (Massachusetts 'mos, they can't help themselves!), so being that she's currently living down here in New York, she had to be particularly tawdry. We do have reputations, I'll have you know.

Now, going into sex shops while single and presently prospectless can be a little strange. It's sort of like stepping foot into a world of possibility that you have absolutely no use for at the moment. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against accoutrement edible or otherwise, it's just not happening for me lately, so when faced with huge dildos, vibrators both vaginal and anal, leather whips, handcuffs, desensitizing spray, flavored lubes, edible jelly cock rings, and penis pops it can all be a little daunting. Oh, and don't give me the whole self-love bit, I'm not about to go lather up with hot body oils and "treat myself" any time soon! Recent inexperience doesn't mean you have to leave your sense of humor at home, however, so I insisted that Lauren get a banana flavored condom to throw in with her goodie bag.



After swimming through a sea of smut, I needed a drink, so it was time to go to my favorite bar in the West Village, Cubbyhole! Cubbyhole, if you'll remember, is a mostly lesbian bar. Could my penchant for lesbian bars be what is keeping me from experiencing the many joys (or pains, for that matter) that sex shops can bring you? I'll have to get back to you on that one.