Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Ah, the Romance!

Last night during one of many nights out this week, some friends and I sat around a roaring fire and drank tiki drinks, discussing the shit out of everything we possibly could, as girls do. Somewhere along the way, the subject of butt plugs was broached. I'm sure, knowing me, that I was the one to initiate it, but I digress.

Out of a group of four women, it appears that I was the only one that had actually owned and used, multiple times might I add, a butt plug on a man.

The look of horror on everyone's face was enough for me to drag out this little ditty. Enjoy, dear readers:

I used to date a guy who was very much into movie-quality romance. When the relationship began, I was showered with flowers, and letters that were actually sent in the MAIL...a surprise trip to San Francisco for a get the picture.

It was quite lovely to be so enamored of and doted on, and I fell for it hook, line and sinker.

One year, said boyfriend booked a trip to South Beach for Valentine's Day. The weather was gorgeous. We lollygagged on the beach, had sexy drinks at the Delano, took long walks along Ocean Drive. Dinner on actual Valentines Day was at a very elegant restaurant in a swank hotel. I dressed up to show off my new tan and felt so loved, and so lucky. Look at where I get to spend Valentines Day! Look at how my man loves me so!

Back in the hotel room, sated and tipsy, Mr Romance pulls out a box and hands it to me.
It was a rather large box, and it certainly wasn't blue with a little white ribbon around it.

I tore open the wrapping and pulled the top off the box. Lo and behold, I found myself staring at a large dildoe complete with balls, and leather strap-on harness. And I could swear it was staring back at me.

"!" I stammered.

He beamed from ear to ear "I knew you'd love it! Wanna model it for me?"

Uh. No.

I put it back in the box, kissed him, said thank you, and then had to cart that beast back to NY and there it sat, next to the bed, for the next several years.

When we were breaking up, he actually brought up the fact that I never used the strap-on. He was actually HURT by this fact, and quite possibly, could have even contributed to our breakup, by God!

I've learned my lesson. I now know that, the way to a man's heart is most certainly, through his butthole.


Anonymous said...

I love that story, and I love your last line! HA. That's too funny.


Anonymous said...

Lucky! Mine said one of the reasons he never fought for me when I walked is that I TRIED to bring a strap on into the relationship. Maybe we could have traded.