Eroscilate Me

My husband and I had a fight last night. It was about vibrators.

For my birthday, my husband spent an ungodly amount of money and I am now the proud owner of a Dr. Ruth endorsed Eroscilator.

This thing came with more attachments than a vacuum cleaner and I have yet to watch the instructional DVD, (and I'm a little afraid of forever associating Dr. Ruth with my expensive vibrator) so I've been trying some of them out here and there.

Two years ago, when the salesperson at the erotic toy store in Provincetown tried to sell Patrick and me "some lovely things for couples" and we fell all over ourselves in horror to explain that we are not a couple (ewww, gross!), she went on to demonstrate the Eroscilator to just me, while Patrick hyperventilated in the corner.

(That is the best sentence I've ever written!)

She warned me that it worked quite differently than a Magic Wand and it would take some time to get used to the different sensation, but that it was "totally worth it". Dr. Ruth taught me that it is like a "loving finger" while my Wand is more like a sexual jackhammer so I was expecting it to take some getting used to.

I've found one or two neat little tricks that it can do, but I'm not an expert yet. So last night, when our marital relations reached a point where the introduction of a vibrator seemed expedient and wise, I grabbed my trusty, old (already plugged-in) Magic Wand.

You know that sound cars make when they throw on the breaks and slide into a curve? Errrrt!!! Yeah. I think my husband made that sound.

"Why aren't you using the expensive new vibrator I just bought you?"

"Uh, can we talk about this later?" I was that close for god's sake.

"No! I spent a lot of money on that vibrator. And I expected you to blah, blah, blah, shut up shut up SHUT UP!"

Okay, that last part is just what I heard in my head.

"Can we talk about this after I cum?"

Flash forward one minute later and we were laughing about the whole thing. But he has no idea what it is like to be raised Catholic in a family of mill-workers. I will now forever feel pressure to use my expensive new vibrator.

I have vibrator guilt.