LAB vs. The Adult Novelty Store

Fair warning to members of my family:  You may not want to read this.  Govern yourself accordingly.

My family has a pretty strong independence gene.  There aren’t many places that I’m not willing to go by myself and I certainly don’t ever cancel plans just because I can’t find someone to accompany me.   If I want to see a movie or go out to eat and Jeff’s at work and my pals are booked up, I don’t have a problem going on my own. 

But there’s one place I just can’t bring myself to enter alone:  The Adult Novelty Store.  It's my kryptonite.  Until last weekend.

I needed to pick up some “prizes” *ahem* for an upcoming shindig, and I was having trouble finding someone to go with me.  I don’t know why I hesitated to go alone, but I guess maybe I was worried about what kind of people go to the porn store.  People like me, apparently.  My previous Adult Store experience was at a store in Charlotte, NC that catered to strippers women.  I was with my best pal and it was a completely non-threatening experience because we had just finished a liquid lunch.  No such luck in Atlanta.

But time was running short, I wasn’t anywhere near Charlotte, and the bachelorette party was coming up quickly.  Sometimes you need to pick up a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs and a giant dong on a schedule.  I recommend the “Showstopper”.

I was out running errands last Saturday and I figured it was as good a time as any to make my dirty purchases.  I headed to a certain establishment in Suwanee. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly where it is. 

My first problem was parking.  There were a lot of trucks parked in the lot.  A lot a lot.  Which made me more nervous because it meant that not only were there a lot of people in the store, but they were most likely men.

I’m not generally indecisive, but I had a hell of a time picking a spot.  I circled the lot three times and finally parked as far away from all the other cars as possible.  I have no idea why.  Just in case one of the trucks tried to molest my car.  Not exactly a confident start to my endeavor, but I was “all in” at this point.

I started the long walk from my parking spot in Tennessee and entered the building.  Everyone inside stopped their shady shopping and looked at me. Nothing attracts attention at the Adult Store like a 40-ish woman in a babydoll dress and a pair of sensible sandals.  They were Clarks.  

I may have mentioned this before, but when I’m uncomfortable I yawn.  A lot.  I started poking around the store pun intended and yawning uncontrollably.  I immediately caught the concerned attention of a sales clerk.  When a guy with waist-length dreadlocks, full sleeve tattoos and nipple piercings asks you if you’re OK, you know you’re in trouble.

I said I was fine, but then I accidentally backed into a display rack and I swear to God I yawned so big it probably looked like I needed to lay down on the floor for a nap.  At this point the other customers were much more interested in my next move than they were in the merchandise.

I gathered my wits about me and went about making my selections, studiously avoiding any areas labeled “clamps” and “fetish”.  I definitely needed backup and about 10 cocktails for those.

Eventually I had everything I needed and I headed to checkout.

Here’s the thing about checkout at the Adult Store:  If you’re buying anything that requires batteries *ahem* once more, they have to test the item to make sure it works before they ring it up.  I knew this going in, but it still doesn’t make the experience any less excruciating.  I waited until the female cashier was nearby, got out my wallet and hustled to the register.  She tested the items in an efficient manner and I figured I was home free.  Until she started with the questions:  Do you need batteries?  Nope.  How about lube?  Oh Dear God, please stop.  I recommend water based.  Jesus, just stop.  All of the men in the DVD section (gross!!!) were huddled at the end of an aisle where they could observe.  My brain was screaming: Just. Let. Me. Pay.

I tried to create a diversion.  When I’m uncomfortable, I get all “Jokes McJokey”.  I can’t help it.  Moronic unfunny jokes come out of my mouth before I can stop them.  So I said to the cashier “You guys are open 24 hours?  What kind of person stops by here at 7 a.m.?  Do they wake up and say "Know what would be great right now?  An Egg McMuffin and a purple dildo".  Heyyyoo!  Ba dum dum. She didn’t even bother with a courtesy laugh.

I don't know what kind of shady customers shop at the porn store people like me, but I had to show my ID and sign two copies of the credit card receipt.  I guess to confirm that I really am a dirty, nasty girl *raises hand*.  With my transaction completed, I got the hell out of there and swore I'd never volunteer to shop for a bachelorette party again.

So I survived my first solo venture to the Adult Novelty Store unscathed for the most part.  I am woman, people.  Hear me roar!  While I haul ass out of the parking lot as quickly as possible.