When I was in high school, I was probably looting around for some rogue twenty dollar bills or perhaps golden coins or something in my parents dresser when I came across a condom. I was suitably horrified. It’s not that I didn’t ever expect that they had sex or anything, I just never needed to THINK about it. I mean, these are people who told me when I was conceived (October 31)(shudders), so it’s not like they weren’t open about sex. In fact, weeks before this event, my mother had chased my brother and I around the house saying, “horny,” because we thought it was disgusting to hear coming out of her mouth.
I mean, isn’t it?
Anyway, so, I knew that they’d been spayed and neutered, so the concept of using a condom led me down foul and horrible paths in my mind I never, ever wanted to think about. Finding a stash of porn is one thing. Realizing your parents make the beast with two backs is an entirely different story.
Now that I’m a parent, I know that there will come a point when my own children will realize that I have sex and be equally disgusted. I, of course, know my children will come to realize that I exist and be disgusted by that as well, so I know I can’t win, but at the very least, I’ll have to start my own covert hiding of certain things.
Like, uh, well, SEX TOYS.
Thank Sweet Baby Jesus, I never found any of those, because I think I probably WOULD have died right then and there, but you know, the condom was bad enough. Just. Ew.
So, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what I am supposed to do with my pathetically small (and rapidly dwindling) collection of naughty things. My bedside table isn’t going to be cutting it any longer. In fact, I should probably start leaving things like books called “A Mother’s Love” (is that a book? If it’s not, Hallmark should get their asses on top of that immediately, if not sooner) and perhaps books of pictures of cute fluffy kittens, just to throw my kids off my trail. If they think I’m the most boring person on the planet, they won’t go looking for my collection of delicious narcotics (drugs are bad, kids), cough syrups that require identification (drugs are REALLY bad, kids), oils, lubes, and other assorted naughtiness that I might have stashed around my room.
My biggest problem with trying to find something to stash these things in is that I’m kind of (okay, that’s going to go up for Understatement of the Year) stupid. The medicine I take for my migraines makes me really forgetful and I am always misplacing things. Like my pants. And keys. And wallet. And really, most anything else that you CAN misplace. But if I lost my one lone remaining vibrating boyfriend, I’d probably cry real tears, which might actually make my rarely-used tear ducts burn in agony. No one wants THAT, least of all me.
So I turned to Google, my trusty sidekick, who I like to imagine with red hair, because I firmly believe that all sidekicks should have red hair, to see what HE had to say about it (yes, Google is a boy).
First, Google informed me that Tupperware was an excellent choice. I disagreed, because, HI, it’s see-through, and even if I bought the colored stuff, my kids always assume that anything in Tupperware is for them. I don’t know where they got so damn egocentric. Maybe they read my blog or something. Tupperware to store my sex stuffs is a definite NO.
Then, Google told me that I could hollow out a space behind a painting and put a safe in there and then put my painting back. This would presume I HAD a painting on my wall OR a safe, neither of which I have or want on or INSIDE my bedroom walls. Plus, my sex toys are cheap pieces of crap which is why they’re all broken and I’d feel TOTALLY absurd putting them inside a wall safe BEHIND a painting. But this gets an A+ for cloak-and-daggers, which is always good in my world.
Also scoring points for cloak-and-daggers stuff is the notion that I could take the time (or buy) books and hollow them out and then put each of my sex toys in them. Which would work well until I forgot which book had what toy in them. Or when my kid decided to read War and Peace or something and WHOOPS! out pops Mr. Pink! That would probably scar him more than finding it in my drawer, where he shouldn’t be snooping ANYWAY. But it’s a good idea and highly creative, so the idea gets marks for that, even if it isn’t practical for me.
Some ingenious company made a pillow that hides a sex toy and a bottle of lube. Which means, effectively, that you can hide that bad boy in plain sight until such time as Little Susie gets a cold and wants to snuggle up in Mom’s Bed and lays her head on the WRONG PILLOW. Next thing you know, she’s screaming that the pillow is biting her and you’re trying to explain that “it’s okay, that’s Mommy’s SPECIAL Pillow” and trust me when I tell you that your kid will tell the ENTIRE world that you have a Special Pillow. That vibrates. Uh, count me out.
Probably the best idea I found was a shoebox. I’ll probably use an ancient running shoebox or something gross that my kids would never want to borrow because the shoes are so butt ugly and stash my meager collection in there. Then I’ll hope like hell that they don’t have to make a diorama recreating the Battle of the Bulge or whatever for Social Studies and decide to go snooping. Or maybe they can use what they find inside in their dioramas (do kids still have to make those things?). Who the hell knows.
Either way, the shoe box seems like the best alternative for now. Well, the shoe box and some new sex toys. Because this is just getting pathetic.
So tell me, Toy With Me-ers, where do you stash the goods?
Photo by Stuart Miles.