Good Vibrations.

I have a confession to make.

Talk about masturbation makes me uncomfortable.

I don't know why. I'm a Victorian lady at heart.

But I will close my eyes and think of England to tell this story.

Somehow last summer, the talk turned to masturbation. And I visibly squirmed and stuttered and was incredibly uncomfortable. Which my friends loved and used as a secret weapon to shut me up. The masturbation talk eventually turned to vibrators, where it was revealed that I didn't have one, had never owned one, and wasn't in the market, but thanks.

"HWHAT?!?!?!" was the unanimous response. "YOU DON'T HAVE A VIBRATOR?!?!?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?!?!?!"

They all had very strong opinions about the matter, which was surprising to me, as the matter happened to be ladyparts. I have no idea why they were so concerned.

It has been a running theme, the lack of vibrator in my life. At one point, I was ambushed KGB style and taken to a sex shop and subjected to all sorts of penises. Big scary penises, cartoon penises, Hulk-esque penises. More penises than a girl could ever need or want. Too many penises, is what I'm saying. Penis trauma.

Last month, when I was in New York, I was telling my friend about all of the stress my vibrator-less life was causing my poor boys, how they were apparently up at night lamenting the fact that I was not picking up good vibrations. She laughed, asked a few innocuous questions ("Do you want to go out and get one?" "Not really." "Oh, okay."), and we moved on.

Cut to last week. I hadn't checked my mail in a month or so (oops), so I opened my mailbox and was avalanched by junk-mail and a parcel box key.

"How curious," I said to myself. "I don't remember ordering anything."

I gathered up my piles of mail and went to the privacy of my own home and opened up the first box.

Inside the box was a book entitled "Tickle Your Fancy: A Woman's Guide to Sexual Self-Pleasure."

I felt an interesting mix of panic and confusion. Where had the book come from? I hadn't ordered a book about self-pleasure. In fact, I was blushing just reading the title. I'm blushing just typing it.

I convinced myself that it was a fancy brochure trying to sell something and moved on to the second box.

I cut open the tape and folded back the cardboard and was it was like watching the end of "Se7en":



Vibrators. Plural. Multiple vibrators. Two of them, to be specific, one of them covered in daisies.

Once I recovered from the shock, I checked the shipping slip. Sure enough, they were from my friend in New York.

Thank you?

And yes, my friends are all thrilled.

Weirdos.