We All Have Our Vices… Mine Takes Batteries

I didn’t plan to buy a vibrator last weekend.

In fact, our tour de adult shops focused on one very specific goal—finding thigh high leather boots for my best friend’s honeymoon.

Our quest took us to a three-story shop with an adult store on the lower level, and all manner of Wiccan, goth and “drug culture” memorabilia on the main retail floor. Looking for tarot cards, incense and a spiked collar? You’d find it here, along with an entire wall of leather boots.

In our mid-to-late 30s, my best friend and I were the oldest people in this store. And the only ones not clothed in black, with hair dyed in fluorescent colors. Imagine an X-rated video section tucked in the corner of Hot Topic, and you’ve got a pretty good description of this place. The phrase “Head shop with an identity crisis” also comes to mind.

When I spotted a Doc Johnson wireless remote control vibe for a little over $50, I couldn’t turn it down. But let me be clear: we were not in your usual adult video store, nor did the clientele represent the typical adult store demographic.

Every adult store has the resident overcoated perv in the corner ogling female customers, the quiet couple browsing the how-to videos, the twenty-something loner seeking something to keep him busy Saturday night, and the gaggle of bachelorette party babes giggling over the penis drink stirrers.

My first clue that something was amiss came right after I paid. The 19-year-old (at least, he looked 19) behind the counter put the toy in a paper bag, handed it to me and sent me on my way.

As anyone who’s purchased adult toys knows, they are non-refundable (quite understandably) and the clerk usually puts batteries in to make sure it works before you leave the store. I’m not thrilled with the idea of the fat, hairy middle-aged guy usually behind the counter in an adult store handling such an intimate item, but it’s better than being out $50 if the vibrator is defective. (Incidentally, Vibrator.com has a special, and very fair, return policy. You may write in to request a refund or exchange if your merchandise does not work… but back to our story! )

“Aren’t you going to make sure it works?” I asked the clerk.

His eyes gazed blankly at me. “Oh,” he said, slowly. Everything he did was slow. I’m not passing judgment or making assumptions, but I can’t help but think he frequently tested the “tobacco products” for sale in the store. “I suppose we should,” he said.

This isn’t your normal vibrator with a few AA batteries. Six watch batteries power the egg while a CR2, commonly used in digital cameras, powers the controller.

I tried to hide an expression that was half-smirk, half-grimace as I watched him putting six batteries smaller than my thumb into the small, egg-shaped contraption. I offered to help. Clearly uncomfortable handling the sex toy, he heaved a sigh and handed it to me.

I installed the batteries and pushed the button. Nothing.

A line has formed behind us, two twenty-something men with a question about a tobacco pipe and some kids buying rolling paper (for tobacco, of course.) Everything in the store is to be used only for tobacco, it is noted on signs taped to the wall.

I suspected one of the batteries might be facing the wrong way. I opened the egg and promptly dropped the batteries (all six) on the floor. I bent down to pick them up, knocking into the man behind me. My best friend giggled; I joined her.

Apparently, the spectacle of two women buying a vibrator became far more interesting than tobacco pipes, and everyone in the store gathered around to see if we could get the toy working.

After taking out and putting in the batteries three times—and checking the single battery in the remote, as well–we suggested to the clerk that the vibrator may be broken. Stumped, he called the manager.

The manager brought us a new vibrator, opened the package, started the process again.

“Does each remote work only on the egg it’s sold with?” I asked, my imagination running wild at the possibilities if one remote can control more than one vibrator.

“Of course,” the manager replied, giving me an odd look. “They’re all coded differently.” Adult novelty items are a recent addition to the shop, and I can tell he’s second-guessing the decision to carry them.

“That would be like a comedy skit if one remote controlled more than one vibrator!” my friend said, painting a verbal picture of women in a restaurant jumping and orgasming at sporadic intervals.

“It could make for an interesting evening!” I said, laughing.

A moment later, the egg I had in my hand—from the first, broken vibrator—began buzzing, as did the one in the manager’s hand. Letting out a girlish squeal, I dropped the toy and it fell just the right way to roll beneath the counter.

“I guess the remotes do work on more than one!” my friend observed.

Twenty minutes later, we managed to leave the store with a working vibrator and a modicum of dignity. Until we ran into the guys so amused by our antics. “Have fun with that!” they said as we walked out the door together.

Yes, from now on, I am definitely doing all my shopping for sex toys online.

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