Underappreciated Scholar

Hung Like A ho – life in specialized sales

By Jimmy Woodfox

“Don’t knock masturbation, it’s sex with someone I love.”
– Woody Allen

We all want sex. In fact, if you had your way, you’d probably be in the bedroom (or bathroom, kitchen, back alley) with the person you love/tolerate instead of reading this article right now...
But despite what NBC sitcoms and movies with Josh Hartnett tell us, many people go minutes, hours, even days without sexual contact! What do they do? They see me. My name is James. I sell dildos.

I began working for an online retailer last year, hired primarily as an office worker, but whenever we experienced a surge of sales, I would be called out to help pull product and pack orders. I knew going in that our company sold pornography, but I had no idea what I was getting into until I actually walked in the warehouse for the first time. I stood in awe of the thousands upon thousands of adult DVDs that adorned the shelves. But I’ve been on the internet, and I’ve seen more than my fare share of filth. So no matter what the DVD, whether it’s “Poop Shooter Cuties #2,” “Great Grandma Sells Her Cookies,” or “Asian Cheerleader Cavity Search Vol. 3,” I never batted an eye.

I was mighty proud of my post-Gen-X cynicism and desensitized view towards sexuality, until I was given an order for “novelty items.” As I turned the corner into the sex toy aisles, my eyes widened – I entered a world that shocked and amazed me.

I was a total ignoramus when it came to sex toys. I mean, I knew about dildos and vibrators and such, but it was the sheer variety that took me by surprise.

I quickly figured out that when it comes to dildos and vibrators, they’re like cars, with different classes, sizes and price ranges, each with many different makes and models. For those on a budget, there are $10-$30 types that are little more than phallic plastic sticks with optional vibration. These are the sex toy equivalent of that 1989 Civic hatchback you had when you were 17. You were glad you had it, but you would’ve loved something more – you wanted a Cadillac.
And that’s where exotic luxury models come in. From hand-blown glass dildos that look like works of art, to vibrating wonder-dongs with multiple extensions, a woman with enough money (some of these cost well over $300) could become so satisfied with a multi-headed, studded 13-inch purple love machine that their next sexual encounter with a man might leave her saying, “Is that it? Where’s your variable speed setting? And why don’t you have a clitoral stimulator?”

Of course, the vibrator/dildo market is mostly for girls, and since pornography is mainly a man’s business, toys for the boys take up nearly all the space. And since all guys really want is an available hole, their choices are very limited, and more than a bit creepy. Walking into an aisle full of sex toys for men is like walking into Hannibal Lector’s meat locker, as disturbingly realistic reproductions of female body parts vacuum sealed and ready to ship, most of them being “realistic recreations” of your favorite pornstars’ privates?

Want Jenna Jameson’s pussy? That’ll set you back about $30. Her mouth? That’s over $60. Unfortunately, there isn’t a toy made just for rear entry, so if you’re a backdoor beast, you’ll need the front and back combo; that’ll run you well over $200. But don’t worry; if you buy that most places will throw in the lube for free!

It all got to me one night when I was stuck with the unenviable task of doing inventory in the sex toy department. Pocket pussies, anal sleeves, and oral seductors surrounded me. As I traversed deeper into the claustrophobic hallways, I became convinced that they were out to get me. I imagined my grisly demise – a shelf, overstacked with Nicole Sheridan’s pussies, Stormy’s asses and Jenna’s mouths, would collapse and bury me under a mountain of synthetic joy. My fellow employees would mourn just long enough to pick up the mess and sell my latex killers. Shaking these disturbing thoughts, I grabbed a stack of vaginas and got to work.

I will admit that after a while, I got curious. I took a serious look at a high-end model (employees get good discounts). “Wow,” I thought. “These things are really realistic looking… and they sure feel real.” For a split second, it didn’t seem that gross to me. We’re all human; we all have needs; why not? Then I noticed the small print on the corner of the box, “Machine washable, for easy clean up!”

I put it back, finished my work and got the hell out of there. I could accept having sex with an inanimate object, and I could even accept doing it with something that resembled refuse from a cadaver lab. But I could never finish using a product, clean myself off, and then put it in the dishwasher with my dinner plates.
That’s just gross.

Besides, I’m strictly a hands-on man, thank you very much.