What does sex mean to you?

I was about to ignore this facebook event when something caught my eye. It was clearly one of those tupperware parties, when it's socially appropriate for someone to cash in on their friends, getting all their gals together for a stealth sales presentation and plenty of overpriced stuff one probably doesn't really need. This seemed somehow different though. I really had no idea what it was about. The description was too vague, and a pretty pink title "Pure Romance" wasn't helping. Candles? Perfume? As always, Google made my life easier. Adult Sex Toy Party...Well, that's romantic.
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I showed up a little early. The room was full of women I didn't know, with rice-crispy penises and dough-covered weinners spread on the dining table. The party promised to be classy.

We started off with a very interesting question which probably was the most insightful part of the party. The host asked "What does sex mean to you?" She was going to hand a product for every answer and have us pass it around afterwards. Sex is sex, obviously. I think she meant how we perceive it, but everyone answered in their own way.

A rather big woman on the utmost left shrugged her shoulders, "I've been married for 15 years, so there isn't much going on with us. We fall asleep." She got a whip. A pretty lame object for someone whose sex life is that low if you ask me. Is that a way to wake him up?

Next there was this beautiful tall girl with wavy long hair, which gave her a very romantic mermaid look. "Sex means nothing. I'm sorry". I don't remember what she got. I was too lost in my own thoughts remembering that I once tried to learn that mantra, because "sex means nothing" did not at all come naturally to me.

The girl next in line was very obviously pregnant. For her sex was closeness and bonding. It seems like her answer hit home with several girls, including me.

There were many other honest answers: "Painful", "Work". A tom-boyish girl with a cute cap saying "Boobies make me smile", said "Love". Later I found out she was also the youngest.

By the time it was my turn, all my initial answers, like closeness and fun were taken. Sex is a very intimate expression of a sort. You entrust your partner to see you the way not everyone gets to see. My fantasy sex, the one where I did it with strangers, women, people who didn't care about me, was all about fun only, very hedonistic. Not just that in reality. "Pleasure" was my answer. I got lube. Plain and simple.

We later looked at different lotions and potions. My mouth was a little numb from "Great Head", I had something minty meant to be put on nipples on my lips, both wrists were covered with aromatic ointments the purpose of which I have long forgotten. Nothing truly useful.

"Dust it and he will lick it!", our host explained with a tone of a telemarketer. She held a nifty jar with...dust. In my experience he licks without dusting, I thought to myself, but didn't share.

The host used strange terms for genitals mispronouncing clitoris and calling vagina a frog. Things like "His junk" were more familiar, but then left clitoris to be the only medical term used. Overall, her presentation seemed a little too by-the-book and pitchy. Sometimes she was trying to be "frank" or made a comment that perhaps was meant to be a joke, yet no one laughed. Nevertheless she gave me what I want, so I shouldn't complain.

We finally moved on to the part I came for and was very curious about. Buzzing vibrators, shiny bullets, and quiet dildos started wondering across the room. It was the first time I ever saw such things with my own eyes and got to touch and examine everything in a setting that made it perfectly appropriate. This was the fun part. Women seemed to compete in their witty comments about products, definitely not being honest but fun.

In the end it was time to order. The host would invite us one by one to the improvised order room with the rest of the crowd staying in the main room. We talked about lotions...like it was the only thing anyone cared about at this party.

At one point I stopped flipping pages of Pure Romance catalogue and decided to go. It was difficult at the beginning. (this should tell you more why). And then it occurred to me that if I just ask something lame and go away, I'll hate myself later for wasting all this time. So I did what I usually do when I don't know what I'm doing - put it out in the open. "OK, I feel very awkward about this". The host looked at me with indifference, kind of like "you're wasting my time" sort of look. And so I just jumped on it and started asking. I asked so much the host seemed annoyed, but she was content when I left the room with a beaming smile. And I didn't care when everyone looked at me when I almost skipped to my car. I freaking got exactly what I wanted. And I was happy.