“Depending on your stamina, the batteries can last a surprisingly long time.”
I’d love to attribute that quote, but I had my back turned to the offender and by the time I’d swung around the pack of lunching cougars each looked equally guilty.
Let’s be honest, being single along the Gulfshore can test your will. People who look good on paper look bad in real life and those who look great in real life tend to lose their luster as soon as they open their mouth. It can get frustrating. It can also be a boon for battery manufacturers capable of delivering a little extra juice for toys of a more adult nature. So sayeth the cougars. Bless their little hearts.
It seems that during a night out on the town, our group of cougars (whom we introduced you to in Gulfshore Life’s January’s issue) discovered that one of their key players had never sampled what we like to call the latex arts. Not surprisingly, her friends were aghast. Yes, poor Riley, the hopeless romantic and helpless dater, didn’t know a rabbit from rabbit hole. And she’d certainly been single long enough to be able to find room in her underwear drawer.
For those of you who don’t remember Riley, she’s a 40(ish), attractive, well-educated, divorced(ish) single mom, who looks like Lauren Holly before Jim Carey ruined her. She wants to find “the one” so badly, but so far, most appear to be closer to “No. 2.” The men she attracts are almost exclusively married and so, according to her friends, she needed to be introduced to the world of pulsating personal assistants. “It’ll take the edge off,” they claim. “You won’t be so needy.”
After a very short period of what I would characterize as passive resistance, she agreed to a “field trip” to a local venue that specializes in the trifecta “in,” “out” and “off.” And so, on a lovely Monday afternoon, the charity group gathered inside a shockingly well-lit establishment on Pine Ridge Road in Naples to learn the ins and outs (sorry) of all manner of things with names such as The Pucker Up and the Sqweel, a 10-tongued spinner that is just one of a host of things prepared to replace everything about a man except his wallet.
“Oh my god, that’s not gonna fit,” shrieked the appletini-loosened Riley during the demonstration portion of the visit. She burst into a fit of laughter and clung to the arm of Amanda, the blonde marketer. Or was that Paula, the blonde realtor? (They kinda look alike.) And frankly, so do the myriad male reproductions hung neatly along the back wall. “I would never leave the room with that one,” chimed in Emma while checking the manufacturer’s place of origin on a monstrous fellow whose name we can’t print here (because my mother is still alive and this is not what she wanted for her son, the journalist).
And so the afternoon continued on, the store’s clerk expertly sharing the capabilities of each product. It turns out that some, like Lelo’s Lyla, are remote controlled and motion sensitive to a range of 39 feet. Just what you hope to do with that is anyone’s guess, but we applaud innovation in all forms. There are also life-like body parts based on real-life porn stars. And many, according to the sales clerk, come with an “easy off” switch. Which is good, because that’s kinda why we were there in the first place.
Calling all gold diggers! Are you or do you know an unapologetic gold digger? If so, we want to hear from you. Email [email protected]. It’s time you were appreciated for the artist you are.