The Missing Dildo

A friend told me this story today while I was driving and I had to double-check that the people in the car next to me had their windows up because I was laughing so loudly.

So my friend…we’ll call her Patricia…bought herself a dildo awhile back. Atta girl.

Let me also clarify that when Patricia bought said dildo, I was immensely proud of her. This is not something she does without a lot of thought. She’s not me…she doesn’t talk freely about these things with anyone willing to listen.

This purchase was a really big deal for her.

She told me about it, but I doubt she told anyone else. I’m honored. (Also, I have her permission to write this because she knows I won’t say who she is.)

So anyway, Patricia told me recently about how she can’t find her dildo and hasn’t been able to find it in years.

Of course, there’s a huge question drilling itself into both our brains:

What happened to it? Seriously. What the fuck happened to it?

There’s a typical culture with things like this. You buy a toy, it’s not cheap, and you put it somewhere and guard it with your life. Especially if you have children, a disapproving spouse, or snooping house-sitters.

As such, sex toys don’t tend to up and disappear.

So seriously, what happened to Patricia’s dildo?

Patricia suspected her husband found it and threw it away.

I think that’s a fair suspicion. Disappointing, but fair.

So yesterday, Patricia was at her parents’ house.

Her mom…we’ll call her Beatrice…is a wonderfully sweet and traditional woman–a devout Christian and loyal wife, mother, and grandmother.

Beatrice and Patricia happened to be in the back bedroom of her parents’ house, when Beatrice told her that she’d, “found something.”

No, no, actually what she said was, “I found something that I don’t know if you want back or if I should just throw it away.”

Patricia’s mind spun. The combination of her mom’s iffy vibe and the mystery “something” left her baffled.

What could it be?

Beatrice pulled open a bedside drawer and suddenly Patricia knew exactly what it was.

I’m shaking my head and laughing on the inside while I picture Beatrice, all sweet and grandma-y, standing in that room with a blue glass dildo in her hand.

Just take a minute to really let that sink in.

(I try to make others’ stories as factually accurate as possible, so I just texted Patricia to ask what color it is and if it’s glittery. That’s some solid journalism you guys. But look, imagery is critical.)

Okay fine, the truth is, the dildo was actually in a black bag when Beatrice pulled it out of the drawer. But at some point in recent history, Beatrice opened that bag and pulled out that blue glass dildo to find out what it was.

So you might be wondering, “how on earth would you be in a situation where your mom could find your dildo?”

It goes like this: Patricia and her family moved in with her parents temporarily while they were waiting to close on their own house.

As such, because no one ever wants her parents to find their dildo, Patricia hid it well.

So well, she forgot where or that she’d hidden it there at all.

That’s some solid hiding skills. She’s likely to find her kids’ hidden away Christmas presents for years and years and years.

Anyway, let me take you back to yesterday afternoon in that back bedroom for a sec, because it gets better.

Beatrice is standing with a dildo bag in her hand, all sweet and innocent. And Patricia realizes something:

She needs to know exactly what happened when her mom found it. Obviously.

A story would’ve sufficed, but instead, Beatrice decides to act it out. Much to my entertainment and Patricia’s.

Step One, Curiosity: What in the world is this? *Looks inquisitively at it, brow furrowed, with her head tilted to the side*

Step Two, Realization: Ooooooooooooooh *Eyes widen so as to force her eyebrows halfway up her forehead*

Step Three, Questions: But where did it come from? *Inquisitive face returns*

Step Four, Understanding: Uhhhhh oooooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooh *Sinister emoji sideways grin face*

I’m grinning and shaking my head again.

Then, Beatrice tells Patricia not to be embarrassed, to which Patricia says she’s a little bit embarrassed. Obviously.

And then Beatrice says…

“Oh no, why! Honestly, my question was, ‘Where has this been all my life?'”

And now my own eyebrows are halfway up my forehead.

BEATRICE! YOU GO GIRL!

Anyway, not to worry. Patricia was able to smuggle her old glass friend out of her parents’ house without her dad seeing.

I made sure to tell her about the time recently when I successfully shoved one in my bra to smuggle it out of a friend’s house.

I’m still not sure how I managed to do that…I mean, I don’t have much going on in that department and it’s not like those are compact for bra smuggling.

Anyway, I sincerely hope I did this story justice. It needed to be told regardless.