You know how when you’re reading a sentence, say this one right here, and you see the word yawn, or a description of the word yawning? You’re probably trying to stifle a yawn right this second, aren’t you?
I’ve been detached for most of my flying feet-first leap into the industry a mere few years ago, and at work saw vibrators with all the excitement one might a shoe, or a window latch. They’re just…products to be worked on, to be measured and described. Checkmarks waiting to be checked off on a to do list to earn my keep. I get excited about neat colors, or abilities, or interesting things coming out on the market, but not really an “OMG I want to put that in my vagina” sort of feeling. I, to coin a phrase, geek out. Sex toys are my thing, and I like to know everything I can about products and the people who make them.
It’s only as I slowly (very slowly, thank you very much) creep up on my late 20s that I’ve begun to experience the perils of ovulation and what happens when it crash lands on my desk while I’m working. My ovaries have taken my concentration hostage at times, demanding an immediate baby or else. All of a sudden these friendly dils and vibes that populate my desk like a fully populated risk board start to look a little more sinister and sexy. I try to explain to my ovaries that while these are fun, they won’t produce progeny, but the stubborn little bastards won’t listen and keep flicking hormones at the back of my head like so many chemical rubber bands.
It’s a little unnerving to find my mental paradigm (I’m also geeking out that I worked that into a sentence, btw) suddenly involuntarily shifted from “I wonder what this would feel like in a vagina?” to “I wonder what this would feel like in MY vagina?”. It isn’t to say I’m absconding with my products and having a roll in the hay during work hours, but on the other hand it would be a fantastic set up for a sick office romance joke.
Do they make sybian attachments for ergonomic desk chairs? If not, I’m gettin me a patent.