avatarJenn M. Wilson

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There Is a Missing Sex Toy in My House

A lesson in communication and vulnerability

I bet she didn’t lose a Womanizer. (Photo by We-Vibe WOW Tech on Unsplash)

I am so fucked.

Or ironically, not fucked, which is why I have more sex toys than any one female should have. There is one that is my go-to: the Womanizer.

I haven’t used it very much because the pandemic-stay-at-home situation offers zero privacy. This weekend my husband left the house with the kids for two hours; I decided to take advantage with a sexual release.

Unlike my other toys, hidden in a bag in my closet, this one is in my bathroom drawer. Under the tampons and pantyliners. You know, where no one else would think to look. My self-pleasure toys aren’t things I share with my husband; that ship sailed long ago along with our sex life.

I open the bathroom drawer, reach into the box and…there’s nothing there. I look down, rummage around some more, definitely not in the box. Figuring that I put it with the other toys, I check the sex toy bag. Nope, not there.

Now I’m panicking.

The tip of the toy has a removable silicone circle. When I last used it, I took it to the bathroom to wash the circle. Then, I always place it in the top drawer to dry off. The bottom drawer is where I would put the toy after. I have a system and this is outside the scope of that system!

I check the top drawer, the silicone circle is there. What the eff? I start looking in my nightstand drawers, but it’s not there. I check in my sweater drawers, not there. I’m frantically looking everywhere in my room and I still can’t find it.

Which means one of two horrible things has happened. Either my husband found it and is being a dick (unlikely, he’s more the type who would quietly put it back) or…my youngest child found it.

I told her in the past to not mess with the things in the bathroom, but she doesn’t always listen. I’m not ready to have a “masturbation is healthy” talk with a 6-year-old.

We play Legos and I nonchalantly ask her if she found anything in my bathroom drawers. She gets on the defensive, which I suppose happens when you’re interrogated on the regular when things are missing. I tell her that I won’t be mad, it’s a purple round-ish thing and, “Mommy needs it back”.

“What is it?” she asks. Well fuck. I didn’t know what to say. I finally stammer that it’s a skincare scrubbing device. She still insists she didn’t take it.

When she asks for a picture of it on my phone, I decide to cross her off the list of suspects. She’s not that good at playing dumb.

That leaves two suspects: my husband, or myself (keeping myself on the list that hopefully, I misplaced it). I rummage through his dirty laundry. I search through his clean laundry. Scouring each of his dresser drawers yields nothing. If he has it, it’s in the office where he hangs out all day or in his car.

Part of me hopes he did take it. It would prove that we truly lack sexual unity.

This is not how I want to spend my Monday.

If the Nancy Drew Disappearance of the Cursed Clit Sucker has taught me anything, it’s the importance of both sex and vulnerability with your partner. I use all these sex toys to make up for a bedroom so dead, there’s not even a headstone. If I had any communication and intimacy with my husband, I would feel safe to be vulnerable around him. Which would include asking him, “Hey, have you seen the Womanizer anywhere?”. My toys wouldn’t hide in multiple spots around my closet, they would be shared between us.

I can’t ask, because doing so would open a can of worms that I’m not in the mood for. I’m in the mood to find the fucking toy so I can stop panicking that eight years from now either one of my future teenage kids will randomly find it and then I’m forced to pay for their therapy until they’re 40.

Back to searching. Wish me luck. A missing sex toy in my house could spell disaster.

Sex
Parenting
Relationships
Life
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