I went to the store to buy a new vibrator because my old one broke. I had been jumping on it five or six times a day, and the last time I fell on it I heard it break. This did not make me pleased, so I picked the whole unit up (I didn't want to get slivers of plastic poking me in the ass, after all) and went vibrator shopping.

I went over to the salesman, and I showed him the vibrator. He looked shocked, since it was a very old one and it had obviously been used multiple times a day. You could see the marks on it from use. I told him how I had broken it, and he admonished me. "You need to remember, these things are delicate. Ease down on them slowly, then hit the switch and enjoy yourself." I agreed that it was what I planned to do, right as I got home, I promised!

He called to the back room to see if they had one that size. It was an oversized model. They called up and said that I couldn't buy it separately.

I argued for a while, then I relented and bought a brand new overstuffed easy chair (La-Z-Boy brand) with a vibrating massage. The salesman thanked me and I took it home. I make sure I ease down on the reclining chair slowly, just like I promised.


What were you expecting, you sicko? Another Nodeshell Rescue?

I'm talking to my lover, about sex, as lovers do, and he is stunned when I tell him I have never owned a vibrator. He tells me I must buy one, and goes on to say he'll send me the money as a gift.

My female friends seem to agree with him, so I think "well...why not?"

The first thing you need to know is that at this point I haven't been in a sex shop for probably 17 years, and the second that I've never visited one in in New Zealand. Oh, I know where they are but I've never been in....

So off I go, my mind made up, deciding to go to 'Barbarellas', as at least if I'm seen by my fundamental Christian clients leaving there I can claim I went in for lingerie...

Anyway, I go in to see rows and rows of shelves of videos and magazines, and various items of frilly things hung up -- all way too small for me of course -- my eyes combing the shelves looking in vain for anything that vaguely resembes a 'toy'.

Then I see them. Behind the counter. The counter with the motherly looking woman stood at it and the 6 burly Maori blokes standing at the rack of magazines next to it. I nearly bottle out at this point and slink out the door, but I'm a big brave girl....

So, I go up to the counter and tell the lady -- Shona, according to her name badge -- that I am looking for a vibrator. She, of course, asks what kind, and I confess that I have actually never bought one before. So, she brings down a range for me to look at -- plastic ones, latex ones, rubber glittery ones, you name it. And then she gives me a little discourse on each, turning them on and having me feel the vibration.

By this time three of the guys at the racks are watching with some interest, and all I want to do is make a choice and get out of there... So I decide on a realistic looking latex item, and she asks whether I want this size, going to wrap up the smallest one... I shake my head and tell her, no, not the small one. (I don't quite have the courage to ask to look at 'non-standard' items given the audience but I know I don't want the smallest one.)

So I decide on the next one up... she pops some batteries in the box, wraps it up and tells me to make sure I use a water based lubricant if I need one.

And I make my escape, the purchase safely in my bag, unseen by anyone from work.

Phew!

I'm glad that is over...

So, I get home, open the box, put the batteries in and screw the top on.

And I go to bed, and get comfortable, and turn the control on the base and....

It falls off.

Yup -- there on the floor, looking at me, this litte red disc, that will not go back on, no matter what I do...

At this point I start to giggle.... in my mind I become "The woman who can't even turn a vibrator on."

And I know that tomorrow, I'm going to have to go back there, and do it all again.

I'm so glad I have a sense of humour.

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