This happened a while back and I’m reposting it here. It’s another of my former backwash columns…

They say that life is an adventure. Some days seem to be more adventurous than others are.

Today started out just as any other. In other words, it was a typical, boring day in modern suburbia. Dishes were washed, laundry was folded, and dinner was sitting in the crock-pot. Then the mail carrier came carrying a package my mother had told me to expect.

I thought for sure it was the sweater I’d mentioned wanting the last time we visited. Boy, was I in for a surprise. Never would I have imagined that my 52-year-old mother would purchase me A Rabbit. I’m not talking about a floppy-eared, cuddly bunny. The Rabbit is a vibrator. 

First, having never used a vibrator, I was shocked to be on the receiving end of one. And never in my wildest imagination would I ever have believed my mother would be the one to gift me with my first.

After getting over my initial shock, curiosity got the better of me. I figured, oh hell, what the heck. My husband was at work. Who would ever know that I actually used the thing? It would be my little secret.

Or so I thought.

Just to make sure that no one would see my walk on the wild side, I decided to lock my bedroom door before the experimenting could begin. Not so much to hide what I was doing, but more to make sure no one saw me if I was doing it wrong. Of course, I don’t know if there really is a wrong way to use a vibrator. 

Just as I shut and locked the door, the phone rang. I looked at the rabbit hoping the phone would stop its shrill ringing so I could get on with enjoying my unexpected surprise. Lo and behold, my prayers were answered. 

For all of 30 seconds. 

Then the phone began ringing again. I gave a heartfelt sigh and reverently put my new toy on the bed and went to stop the infernal noise bent on interrupting my grand adventure. That’s when my unusual day went from adventurous to embarrassing. 

The door wouldn’t open. I locked it and unlocked it, locked it and unlocked it. Jiggled the handle and finally, after thirty minutes of cursing, gave it a few vicious kicks. Still, the door refused to budge. 

I was locked in my room with no way to get to a phone, with nothing to occupy myself except the rabbit and my wayward imagination. What was I going to tell my husband when he got home? There would be no stopping his curiosity when he arrived because we never shut the bedroom door.

That was at 1:30 this afternoon. It’s 7:45 now and my husband is still not home. About an hour ago, I finally stuck my head out the window and begged a neighbor to call my husband’s cell phone and beg him to come rescue me. All my neighbor got was voicemail. 

So here I sit, trying to come up with a believable excuse for why my bedroom door was shut and locked. Let’s not forget the fact that I need to figure out where I’m gonna hide the Rabbit, which even now still sits in its packaging. Who ever thought the quest to reach a mechanical orgasm could cause such unmitigated embarrassment. 

What will happen the next time I give in to temptation and actually open the packaging? Of course, at this rate it may be months before I have the courage to actually take the next step in this adventure. Was I the one who said modern suburbia was boring? Nope…it couldn’t have been me.