At sixteen, two years under legal age, I walked into my local sex shop and bought my first vibrator.
I’d been masturbating for years, long before I had a name for the things I was doing at night. By sixteen, I was well versed in the subject of self-pleasure, but I’d learned that when it came to my orgasms, if some were good, then more must be better.
I clearly remember making this special trip. I’d saved up a little bit of money from my birthday cheque from grandma (oh, if she only knew). For weeks I scouted sex shops in my city and picked one that looked friendly, warm and not skeevy. On the day in question, I approached the door of this well-lit store with frilly lingerie and old pin-up posters in the window. On the door was the sign barring anyone under age of eighteen from entering.
I took a deep breath and entered with all the mature confidence I could muster. It was my first time in a sex store. I was raised in a sex-positive family. I knew what men and women looked like. I had no shame about my sexuality or body and the store I had picked was rather positive itself.
Even so, it was all quite overwhelming. The infinite variety of sexual expression exploded before me. I could see the shelves and shelves of sex toys towards the back of the store. Things I’d never seen for sexual activities I’d never even considered. I wasn’t yet ready to drive straight in. I started slow, first by examining the merchandise at the front of the store. I gazed, fascinated at the wide variety of lubes and condoms. I read each label with the clever promotional blurbs and instructions. From there I moved towards the lingerie and costumes. I then browsed at the curiously yet non-threateningly shaped glass sculptures locked inside display cases.
Eventually, I made my way to the back of the store where all the toys were grouped by type. There were “For Him” and “For Her”, there were “Clitoral”, “Vibrators”, “Anal”, “Dildo” and other such toy classification. I slowly made my way through each section, completely fascinated by each toy and completely at a loss for what I should choose for myself.
Finally, after several minutes of staring at the shelves, a nice sales lady came and asked me if I needed some help. Unashamed, I flashed her a big smile and told her I was looking to buy my first vibrator and was indeed a little lost (I’m surprised I wasn’t carded right then and there). What followed was one of the most informative lessons I’ve ever received on the topic of sex. She gently and kindly took me through each type of toy, explained its intended use, its results and its draw backs. In the end, she helped me pick out a vibrating egg with a little pink, ribbed silicon sleeve and a pack of AA batteries.
When I left the store, a good hour and a half later, I was sitting on the bus with this toy that represented a whole new level of sexual discovery burning a whole in the bottom of a discrete black plastic bag. I wondered if the other people on the bus could tell what I had just bought. I was already wet with excited as I anticipated getting home and trying it out for the first time.
And the end result when I got home? Let’s just say I was not disappointed. Since then this trusty first vibe has sadly died, but many more have taken its place (all bought at legal age). But I’ve always been rather proud of my self-pleasuring activity and particularly proud of that first purchase.
–Submitted by AH
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