The One About Bobdog
“You have a lot of sex” she said.
It was conversation littered with quick teases and climaxed as I ran my fingers down Poca’s thighs as she made that statement. There was a tacit rule of tease between us. No quick movements, I won’t tear off her pants and she won’t attempt to tickle unless the motive is for me to swerve off the road.
Me: “We should go buy some toys.”
We all know the erotic merits of sex toys. They enhance foreplay, stimulate our voracious struggle for an orgasm, provide a catharsis for perverts and they make better substitutes for a cock – it’s that big and it never goes limp, how are we ever going to compete.
She: “I want a Cheshire cat.”
A Cheshire what? My mind furtively struggled to picture what that was, while I kept my smile to disguise my ignorance. Sex toys had always been a novelty for me and my abecedarian gasp on this was slowly formulating a picture of a dildo, with the tip shaped like a Cheshire cat and striped in colour.
Yes, maybe that’s what it was! A Cheshire Cat shaped dildo and when insert, gave the recipient the widest grin she could hope for. Smile like the Cheshire Cat; now that would have been the marketing slogan.
She: “Oh, no, I want a Bobdog.”
A Bob WHAT? Now surely this was getting too fancy for me to keep abreast. My smile was only going to hide that much ignorance, but I was running out of ideas on what these were. When it comes to sex toys, my experience with it is as much a eunuch would on wearing condoms.
So this Bobdog matter, was it another dildo shaped in a bobdog, because if it was, then unless I am truly vanilla, but dildos are really beginning to resemble those Fez candy dispensers.
Me: “What the fuck is Bobdog.”
Coming clean was the best way out of this. The last thing I needed was to be looking through the stores for a dildo, only to realize it was a blowup doll.
She: “You don’t know what Bobdog is?!”
Her astonishment told it all. Perhaps it was coupled with a tinge of contempt for my ignorance that how could someone like me be such a novice on this. It’s okay for Butterfly not to know Tulips from Roses, but surely sex toys would have been a textbook conversation. It was almost as if her eyes pierced right through me and branded me Vanilla.
Me: “It’s a sex toy?”
She: “It’s a cartoon character! Did you not have a childhood?!”
Me: “I had a childhood and it was called HE-FUCKING-MAN!”
Me: “What the fuck! I thought you were talking about sex toys!”
She: “You said toys!”
Me: “We were talking about sex! How the fuck did you move from sex to Cheshire cat?!”
She: “You said we should go buy some toys! And you said before that you were going to get me a Cheshire cat toy!”
Me: “Sex Toys! Fuck! And here I was trying to figure out what a fucking Cheshire cat and Bobdog was.”
It was almost a sigh of relieve to know that perhaps the dynamic progressions of sex and all its peripheral deviancies have not left me behind. I guess watching porn is still the best kind of news for armchair sex toy shoppers.
She: “Let’s play a game and see how long we can abstain from sex.”
Me: “That is the fucking dumbest game I have ever heard. Why can’t we just compete to see how many hamburgers we can eat. Why the fuck would I want to play a game that keeps me from having sex?!”
She: “Because it enhances the sex because the foreplay is longer!”
Me: “That's what the dildo is for!"
Just another day of my life.