no more dildos in the bathroom, part two

In high school, I gave my best friend an innocuous sex book (The Idiot’s Guide to Sex, coffee table edition, I think), and her mother prominently displayed it on her bookshelf. That summer, she left her desktop computer to her parents and when she returned home, her cache had been discreetly cleared.

 

Tonight, I returned home and my husband dildo had been meticulously and thoroughly wrapped in a plastic bag and a dirty shirt. I know I did not leave him this way because a) as I left home, I thought, “maybe I should stash him somewhere else,” but shrugged it off, b) never have I ever wrapped my husband in plastic—too kinky, even for me, and c) there was a pile of dirty clothes on the opposite end of my bathroom and obviously I had taken everything off together.

 

I suppose it is considered impolite to request that your mom house-sit and then leave dildos around. But now that my brother has been designated the family delinquent, I have a free pass. Once my brother exposed my sex toy collection, I thought, “Whom am I hiding these from?” My mother used to offer to wash out my period underwear, which I politely declined, so it isn’t that she finds something that exited my vagina revolting. After all, I exited her vagina, once upon a time. I’d say it is more along the lines of indecent.

 

It is my mother’s own fault that her presence was requested. My family and I share a cat. I brought her home from college but she is needy and affectionate and demands their constant attention. For years she traveled breezily from apartment to apartment, on her own volition. My brother is allergic and my mother recently banished her from their apartment—permanently! I live next door and I am indignant at my princess cat’s sudden rejection and mistreatment, so when I leave my apartment for extended periods of time, I request that my uncompassionate mother come and keep her company.

 

I usually leave my husband in the shower or the vicinity of the shower because that is where most of our encounters take place and it is a pain to transport him. I like having him waiting for me, undressed. Sometimes I thoughtlessly leave him on my bathmat because if I’m not going to fuck him and I want to take a bath, bathing with a plastic penis is absolutely obscene—a step beyond a sheer inconvenience. Also, I’ve been having this draining problem, and while expensive silicone dildos aren’t porous and are easily cleanable, I hate to think of my husband as a soap scumbag.

 

But, mostly, I don’t clean. I have seriously been considering writing an honest profile for nerve.com. What’s the euphemistic way to say: “Looking for a man who will cook me steak, be my bitch sexually, and clean my toilet.” Third request is negotiable. Because of my demanding schedule of six hours of classes per week, obviously I don’t have enough time to transport my favorite dildo from my bedroom to my bathroom. Likewise, I wouldn’t have time to do my laundry monthly (I have about two-months worth of underwear) or clean my toilet ever (can’t you hire people to do that?) One of my friends jokes that he imagines me being a character in a detective show, with guns stored in my lampshades, etc.—only they are dildos, not guns. If only I had so much foresight.

 

“It’s the slacker lifestyle, that we do so well.” –Ben Kweller

 

Leaving my dildo, thoughtlessly, on my bathroom floor and requesting my mother’s presence in my apartment begs the question, “HAVE YOU ANY DECENCY?!?”

 

Yes, yes I do. On Friday and Saturday nights, when patrons of the bar across the street flood the street across from my curtainless, second-story apartment, I don’t masturbate in the living room. I tap into my old-skool, downloaded porn collection, which requires no internet connection (only my curtainless living room receives the interweb).

 

“I have a strange neighbor, who doesn’t have curtains on her windows.” –Ben Kweller

 

Besides, if my bathroom was dirty and covered in laundry, my mother would not have been accosted by my husband. It is only because of my recent, unexpected, and uncalled-for cleanliness that she discovered him. He was ashamed. I am not.

 

30+ and disease-free. Beat you, mom!

 

P.S. Because my bother is a total fucking delinquent, he charged porn to his credit card that my parents pay for (as if they wouldn’t find out) and lied and said that his friends stole his credit card and charged it to him (obviously stealing your friend’s credit card is a way bigger offense than making unauthorized charges to your own parents’ credit card). My mother claimed she couldn’t punish him because he said he didn’t do it. And here, all this time, I thought trouble-making and lying, to top it off, was an offense even worse than trouble-making within itself. Clearly I have been misinformed.

 

Quite frankly, I think my parents were too embarrassed, to consider and acknowledge my 14-year-old brother as a masturbator, for them to gain command over the moral thrust of the situation: the fact that it wasn’t an issue of porn or the age at which it is appropriate for people to purchase porn, at all, but rather an issue of making unauthorized charges, which my parents obviously wouldn’t have approved of given the option, without my parents’ permission. Pubescent sexuality embarrasses parents to a point where they loose moral grounding, loose sight of which issues are important and punishable. 

 

Dildo exposure? Quite frankly, I think my little brother is a bad influence on me! I spent my own money on my expensive-dildo collection (as in, my collection of expensive dildos,) and it was money well-spent!

 

As for the matter of my brother being too young for porn: I informed my mother of the abundant amount of free porn on the internet; “Why would he need to charge porn to you? Doesn’t he know how to find free porn on the internet? Is he really that stupid?” to which she replied, “Probably, but he is too young for that kind of stuff, anyway, so don’t get him into it.” As if I would introduce my brother to porn. I’m actually kind of surprised that in his adventures of searching and stealing drugs from my apartment, he managed to miss my hard-copy porn collection. I wouldn’t have missed it or asked for it back had he taken it; I don’t care for magazines, but alcohol is another story.

 

If my brother is old enough to spend money on porn, obviously he is old enough to get it for free. You are never too young to learn how to get things for free that you would attempt to pay for otherwise. The question isn’t whether or not my mother judges my brother as too young for porn or how she feels about the prospect of his eventually becoming a porn-watcher. The fact is that he has already spoken, albeit tacitly, and designated himself a porn-watcher. At least, a porn-purchaser. It is up to my mom to limit his access and partially determine what KIND of porn-watcher he becomes: a user of free vs. pay-per-subscription services, a viewer of misogynistic and degrading vs. consensual and reciprocally enjoyable porn. 

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