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I mentioned awhile back that I have a Formspring account (http://www.formspring.me/pornshopgirl). There’s a couple questions I got there that are worth expanding further on here.

Q: “I get off more when I’m playing with my clit with a vibrator than when I’m having sex with my boyfriend. He thinks I am  no longer attracted to him when really it’s that I am discovering a new part of my sexuality and anatomy. How can I make him understand?”

Lady, you are not alone in the LEAST. I see entirely too many couples walking in, the woman looking irritated with her husband, and the man looking surly as hell. I ring them up, asking if they need lube or toy cleaner or whatnot, and the man immediately says “No. Don’t even see why she needs this stupid fuckin’ thing, if I’m here.” This is a common occurrence. Dudes? CHILL THE FUCK OUT. First off, anatomy lesson: if a woman’s clitoris is more than a few mere millimeters from her vagina, chances are, she’ll have difficulty getting off from straight P-in-the-V sex alone. By all means, not all women are like this- everyone’s different- but many women are. Men, you’re not inadequate and she’s not replacing you with a robotic dick. Women, there’s nothing wrong with you and there is no shame in needing a little help when you’re gettin’ your groove on. A lot of people fail to see that for many, sex and masturbation are two VERY different things. Sex is more about connecting with another person on the most intimate level possible. Masturbation is purely about getting off. It’s not selfish, it’s not sinful, and you’re not gonna grow hairy palms- it’s normal and natural. As I said, everyone is different- sex might be just about getting off, for lots of people. That’s okay too, whatever tickles your pickle or makes your clam jam.

There’s an easy way to solve the man’s jealousy and the woman’s guilt- look for stimulation you can enjoy together. There are incredibly simple techniques- just using your partner’s fingers and a little lube- or there are any number of toys that can be used together. Vibrating cockrings are fantastic for this purpose: the ring can keep Tarzan’s vine a-swingin’ a little stronger and longer, and the vibrations will give Jane’s jungle a thrill. There’s also many very small bullet vibrators that women can use on themselves during sex.  There are so many ways that can keep all parties happy; it’s just a matter of finding one that suits you. And by all means, don’t feel like you have to stop masturbating. That’s entirely healthy, and if your man (or woman!) can’t handle it, show them the door.

Next question!

Q: What’s the best advice about sex you’ve received? Worst?

I forget who gave me the best advice, but it’s the best all the same: waiting for marriage isn’t necessary, but you should wait for someone who cares deeply about you. As with EVERY sex situation, what’s good for one might be crap for another. I know several people who lost it during one-night-stands they never saw again, and they’re perfectly happy with that. That’s TOTALLY fine. From what I can tell, lots of people, while they look forward to it immensely, are scared shitless to do the dirty for the first time. You’re a lot more likely to enjoy things if you’re feeling safe with someone you care about, who you know for sure won’t sneak out the back door while you’re in the shower. The same goes for when the going gets rough- if your protection fails and a bun starts baking in the oven, or you get a little itch downstairs, do you really want the added stress of trying to track down Mr/Ms Right Now? I’m of the opinion that you don’t have to be hitched to get down to business, but being comfortable with the person is a must.

The worst advice? From every women’s magazine ever- faking an orgasm is okay. NEVER NEVER NEVER FAKE IT. That’s a horrible base for a sexual relationship. Think about it: if you fake it, your partner assumes that what they were doing will get you off. They keep doing it during sex, you keep faking it, and you get no sexual relief. That’s got frustration, lies, tension, and explosion written all over it- and not the good kind of explosion, either.  Like with the first question, there’s no shame in not having an orgasm. The destination is fun, but the journey there can be a hell of a time, too.

On a further note, if you’re waiting for marriage- for either religious, safety, or whatever reasons- high fives to you, seriously! Don’t be pressured into doing anything you’re not comfortable with, and kudos to your likely Herculean efforts of restraining your libido.

Got a question? Ask pornshopgirl:

http://www.formspring.me/pornshopgirl

Like I’ve said before, it’s no secret that my mom hates me working at the porn shop. Every time I talk about working there, even a mention in passing, she heaves a heavy sigh and says meaningfully, “You know, I REALLY don’t like you working there.” She and my dad refuse to call it the porn shop…it’s either “that store” or “the adult store”. It doesn’t bug me in the least, parents are parents. I probably wouldn’t want my kid working here, either.

That being said, my other job is considerably less porny. I work at a radio station; it was my major in college and I’m planning on pursuing it as a career. My “day job”, if you will.  Along with DJing and scheduling music and whatnot, I’m also asked to voice commercials sometimes. The production director handed me a script a few days ago, and after reading, I couldn’t WAIT to tell my mom just to get a rise out of her. I sent the following text message that morning:

PSG: Since my pornshop job isn’t giving you enough gray hairs, I figured I should warn you that I’m now the voice of a stripper in a commercial on the radio.

Mom: ROFLMAO

I called her when I got off work a few hours later just to catch up and stuff (yes I call my momma regularly, don’t even hate) and we got around to my text message:

PSG: Oh yeah, so my stripper commercial!

Mom: Yeah, what’s that all about now?

PSG: Well the production director has me voice commercials sometimes, and he got one in for the strip joint 20 minutes from here and asked me to be in it.

Mom: What did you  have to do?

PSG: Oh, you know, seduce local men. *sexy voice* Hey fellas, come out to [strip club] for a good time! Wednesdays are FANTASY NIGHTS!  *back to regular voice* I’m sorry  my life choices horrify you.

Mom: *cracks up laughing*

While my job might make her uncomfortable, at least she can get a laugh out of it sometimes.

A cute middle-aged couple walked in. The husband was perfectly at ease, while the wife was clearly embarrassed. They spent around half an hour in the store. Shy Wife was completely mortified when I came up and asked if they needed help, but Loud Hubby was full of questions and these hilarious gems:

Loud Hubby: “Do you  have any wireless vibrators that we can use together? I want to embarrass her in public even more than usual!”

PSG: “Well, we have these wireless vibrating panties over here, they have-”

Loud Hubby: “WOAH, those are awesome! Baby, look! They have this thing that goes up your hoo-ha, and a remote for me! We’ll be all at a fancy party, and you’ll be like, ‘Oh sir, nice to– *buzz buzz* OH GOD!”

Shy Wife: looks completely shocked, shakes her head weakly, and scurries away

Loud Hubby: “How about lube? You got any good flavored ones?”

PSG: “Yup, this Swiss Navy brand here, it’s made by a food manufacturer and not a toy maker, so it tastes like what it’s supposed to and doesn’t have a plasticky taste.”

Loud Hubby: samples the tester Passionberry lube, “Wow! Honey, we should get this, it’ll taste like my dick is a grape tree!”

Shy Wife: Goes bright red, smacks her hand on her forehead like she can’t believe this is happening, scurries away once more.

PSG: While ringing up their purchases, “Will you be  needing any condoms tonight?”

Loud Hubby: Cheerfully, “Oh, you’re so sweet, but no thanks! Got me the snip-snip so I can blow my load in her all I want!”

PSG and Shy Wife: Stare at each other wide-eyed in shock for a minute, then both crack up laughing.

A few minutes later when we composed ourselves, they left hand in hand, Loud Hubby swinging the bag cheerfully and Shy Wife still laughing. I should’ve asked if he has a younger brother, because that was easily the funniest thing that happened all week.

The telephone is a magnificent invention, but when you work in a porn shop, most days it just makes you wanna kick Alexander Graham Bell in the nuts.

PSG: “Good evening, thank you for calling [pornshop], how can I help you?”

Drunkenly slurring gruff voice: “Yeah, how much is ya’ll’s cover?”

PSG: “I’m sorry?”

Gruff dude: “Your cover charge, how much is the cover charge?”

PSG: “Sir, I’m sorry, we’re an adult DVD and novelty store, not a strip club.”

Gruff dude, calling to buddy in background: “THEY AIN’T A STRIP CLUB, WHERE WE SUPPOSED TO GO SEE GIRLS? I WANNA SEE TITTIESSSSSSS, WHERE CAN WE GOOOOOOOO–*click*”

The internet, so there’s no chance of breeding.

PSG: “Good evening, thank you for calling [pornshop].”

Irritated woman: “Yes, I bought this vibrator from you, and it stopped working. I’d like to return it.”

PSG: It’s been in your vagoo. FUCK NO. “I’m sorry ma’am, we don’t take returns, it’s store policy.”

Even more irritated Woman: “What?! But it stopped working! While I was using it! You HAVE to take it back!”

PSG: I can’t, because it’s fucking nasty and I don’t want your cooter cooties. “I’m sorry ma’am, but it’s a biohazard, we can’t allow used items in the store.”

Impossibly irritated Woman: “But I’ve washed it and everything!”

Maybe, but Dial won’t wash off the Herp.

PSG: “Hello, thank you for calling [pornshop].”

Nervous Woman: “Um, hello. How much do the, ah, young men charge for, um, lap dances?”

PSG: “I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re not a porn store, we’re an adult DVD and nov-”

Now furious Woman: “FUCK! –*click*”

Hi there, overreaction!

—-

PSG: “Hello, thanks for calling [pornshop].”

Chipper dude: “Hello there, miss! I don’t mean to be rude, but would it be alright if I asked you a personal question?”

PSG: “I…guess so?”

Chipper dude: “Are you single?”

PSG:  “…What?”

Alarmingly chipper Dude: “Yeah, are you single?”

PSG: “Um…I don’t feel comfortable discussing such personal matters with customers…”

Still creepily chipper: “Okay, thanks! You have a good night, dear! –*click*”

…what the fuck.

PSG: “Hi, this is [pornshop].”

Gangsta Thug: “Yo, how much is yo VIP room? Ya know, where the private dances and shit hap-”

PSG: “NO TITS HERE, KBYE–*click*”

All of these phone calls (with the exception of my response to the very last one, ‘cos I got bills to pay) have actually taken place. Seriously. You can’t make this shit up, people.

So it’s a slow-ass night when the phone rings.

PSG: “Good evening, thank you for calling [pornshop].”

Dude: “Yes, I bought a doggy-style blowup doll from you guys and I don’t know how to use it right to get off.”

PSG: …what. “Uh…pretty sure you just blow it up and…have at it?”

Dude: “Yes, I know that, but when I’m playing I can’t position it properly to get off. How do I do this?”

PSG: “…what?”

Dude: “Well, it’s a doggy-style doll, and when I put it on the bed I can’t get at it right to get off. Can you tell me what positions will work better?”

PSG: Um. It’s a doggy-style doll, so…..doggy style? “Well, since I’m a woman, I’ve never used a doll like that-” or, you know, at all. “-but maybe move it off the bed to the couch or something? Other than that I really can’t help you, I’m sorry.”

Dude: “Yeah, I TRIED that already. I need you to tell me what positions are gonna get me off!”

PSG: And I need YOU to realize that I DON’T HAVE A COCK AND THEREFORE CAN’T HELP YOU. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I really don’t know how I can help you.”

Dude: Lets out a HUGE sigh, “Fine. Is there anyone ELSE there who can help me?”

PSG: Oh HELL NAH, you’re not taking that tone with me. Not my fault you’re too stupid to fuck a BLOW-UP DOLL. “Nobody else is available right now, but the manager will be in tomorrow when we open. You can try asking her, but as she’s also a woman, I’m not really sure how much more she can assist you, unfortunately. Maybe try the internet to see if other people had the same problem?”

Dude: “Ugh, nevermind. Bye.”

Good luck, horny dumbass. At least he can’t procreate with it.

Waking up at 4am, working day job from 4:30am-7:30am, class from 8am-11am, work day job again from 11am-12:30pm, another class from 1pm-3:45pm, way-too-short nap from 4pm-4:30pm, working at the porn shop from 5pm-12:30am, knowing that  you have to wake up at 4am again tomorrow…………shitty and tiring.

Having two snobby, kind of bitchy former classmates shop in your store, knowing full well who you are and yet pointedly ignoring you…….awkward.

Letting them purchase shitty, uncomfortable vibrators that will probably die within the week…..mildly satisfactory.

Realizing that one has apparently become an anorexic crackho, the other got fat, and you’re still a sassy motherfucker living the good life…..priceless.

A lot of people have asked what exactly I do all night at the porn shop, thinking that every single night involves some crazy shenanigans and hardcore creepers. Honestly, not the case. Here’s a play-by-play of Saturday, June 12th, from 5pm to 12:30am.

5:05pm- Rush into the shop looking frazzled with bedhead, because I woke up late from my nap (Don’t you judge me, I work two jobs, one of which I start at 4:30am. Naps keep me from getting all stabby. Let me nap and you can keep your kidneys.) Start shift change with T-Mama

5:20pm- Finish shift change; spend a good chunk of time talking with T-Mama about her weekend, which involved dislocating her shoulder in a frenzied effort to keep her kids from walking in on her and T-Papa.

6:00pm- T-Mama leaves. I grab an old copy of Penthouse Letters and settle in to read.

6:10pm- Latin Queen and his boyfriend NotEngvall walk in (LQ’s boyfriend is a super nice white dude in his mid fifties. He looks a little like an older version of Bill Engvall, hence the name). The stay and gab for a bit, and buy a Boobie Dodgeball for LQ’s nephew, whose high school graduation party they’re headed to.

6:20pm- LQ and NE leave. Over the next hour and a half, a few of the arcade regulars come in, one or two customers come in and buy stuff, but nothing worth mentioning happens. I read Penthouse Letters for an hour and laugh at the horrible grammar and word choice of the writers….”pooper” for asshole and “mambos” for boobs. Really? You expect your story to be erotic and jerkoff-worthy by writing “I shoved my dick up her pooper and gripped her mambos for leverage”? Not so much.

8:00pm- Bored of Penthouse Letters. I walk the store and make sure nothing needs to be restocked, rearranged, or tidied up, and I notice something awe-inspiring, terrifying, and hilarious: SOMEONE BOUGHT THE RAMBONE. We only had one in stock, and it’s a toy you notice right away is missing. Between my closing shift the night before and the beginning of that current shift, somebody actually bought it. Good luck and happy trails to whoever bought it, I guess.

8:15pm- I call Neoboss to let her know that LQ picked up his Boobie Dodgeball, which we had been holding for him, and to chat for a bit. I tell her about my hellish day the day before that caused me to be late to my shift (which involved being locked out of my car for an hour and a half and getting soaked in Dr Pepper). We chat for a bit, confirming some shift changes. We’ve also gotten a new scent of incense in that for the past couple days, nobody could pin down what the smell reminded us of. I finally figured it out- Pez candy. Exactly like it. I told Neoboss and she shouts over the phone, “THAT’S WHAT THE FUCK IT IS! FINALLY!” Our lives, they are exciting.

8:45pm- I finish Penthouse Letters and move onto Hustler Variations. Same shit, different name.

9:30pm- My good friend Lady Captain stops in on her way home from work, killing time until her boyfriend Captain is off work. We gossip for a good two hours while I work, since the token business is picking up at the night gets later.

10:45pm- A slightly drunk dude walks in. He asks how the arcade and preview booths work, I explain. Somehow he doesn’t get the difference between the two, so I end up explaining about six more times. He finally decides to buy tokens and heads to the cock cave.

11:00pm- Drunk Dude comes back out to buy more tokens. He asks LC and I if we live in town. We say yes, and he immediately asks, “Why the FUCK would you live here? This town fucking sucks.” Dude, you asked. He wanders back into the cave.

11:10pm- Drunk Dude wanders back out, runs to the bathroom, and returns a few minutes later. I’m busy ringing up a customer, so he walks up to LC.

Drunk Dude: “Here, throw this out.”

Lady Captain: “Uhh, I don’t work here, dude.”

Drunk Dude, turning to me, “Hey, I’m gonna set this here, just throw it away.”

He sets down a full can of beer on the counter and walks back to the cave. It was somehow still cold. LC and I are real confused.

11:30pm- LC leaves after we make plans for dinner and booze with Captain and a bunch of our other friends later in the week. I start my closing duties.

11:45pm- I do “last call”- I flip on the light switch in the cave of cocks and announce “The store will be closing in fifteen minutes. Please use the last of your tokens and exit. Store closing in fifteen.” This is to start the process of kicking people out so I can close up, and also ensures that by the time the store closes, I don’t have to walk in on anybody jerking off or getting a blowjob. Drunk Dude answers “Okay.”

11:50pm- The only other dude in the back room, one of my gay regulars, walks out and cheerfully wishes me goodnight as he leaves. My last actual customer leaves, so it’s just Drunk Dude in the back room. I do more of my pre-closing stuff while I wait for him to finish up.

12:00am- Closed. I go to the doorway of the back and say “The store is closed, please exit the store.” Most of the time, when I say this, guys will either immediately leave, or say “Shit! Just a sec, I’m sorry!” If the latter is the case, I can wait- generally, that means they’re quickly cleaning up and straightening their clothes. It usually takes only a few seconds to a half a minute, and they’re always perfectly polite and apologetic about it. That doesn’t bother me; I don’t mind waiting, since I means I won’t have to see your dick.

What bothers me is when they try to pull shit like Drunk Dude, who heaves a big sigh and mumbles “No, I’ve got five more minutes left.”

EXCUSE ME? No. I gave you a fifteen minute warning that you responded to, so I know you heard me and understood. Fuck no.

“NOPE. It’s midnight. You need to leave NOW.”

He heaves another huge “Ugh, you’re such a bitch” sigh and I can hear him shuffling around. He takes another thirty seconds to straighten his clothes and walks out. Glaring at me, he walks out grumbling under his breath at me. I lock the door behind him, and he walks away with no further incident, thank god.

12:05pm- I finally am able to start my actual closing duties and get ready to leave. While I don’t have to clean the back (THANK GOD), I do have to go back there and open two of the doors for the janitor in the morning.  As I walk towards the very back corner by the emergency door and one of the doors I need to unlock, I always look straight down and watch my feet. This corner is the security camera’s biggest blind spot. This is where dudes are usually hooking up. God help the person who shines a blacklight back there, because their eyeballs would burst into flame from the reflection.

I’m walking fast, because I’m eager to get to a friend’s place for boozing after, so I quickly round the corner….and stop short and nearly fall over, yelling “FUUUUCK, THAT WAS CLOSE!”: there’s a pretty big puddle on the floor. It’s not pee, and it’s definitely not water.

EW EW EW EW EW.

I navigate around it and unlock the door, then VERY VERY carefully walk back up front.

12:30am- Finish closing duties, lock up, and leave.

12:35am- BEER.

Such is the life of a pornshopgirl.

When people find out that I work at a porn store, one of the first questions they ask is, “But…is that safe?” My mom in particular hates that I work there because she’s concerned for my safety.

I do have keys to the store, so I can always quickly lock the front door if needs be. There’s also a panic button under the counter, and I always keep the store phone or my cell phone nearby, just in case.

Easily my favorite protection device, however, is….

THE RAMBONE

Made by Doc Johnson Novelties, an excellent company, this is the Dick Rambone. It’s roughly seventeen inches long and weighs about three pounds. RIDICKULOUS. Since it’s hard to tell with just a picture of the toy, here’s a size comparison to an average man:

HE CAN’T EVEN FIT HIS WHOLE HAND AROUND IT. IT’S THAT BIG. For yet another size comparison, what else is roughly seventeen inches long and weighs about three pounds?

A full-grown adult Desert Cottontail. That’s right. This cock is the size of a large rabbit.

Why do I point out the Dick Rambone, you ask? Because you can bet if someone lunges at me, I’m not reaching for a box cutter…nope, I’m grabbing the beast of a dick that could probably knock out a horse.

Readers concerned for my safety, rest easy. Predators, beware: fuck shit up in MY store, you’re going to learn the new, terrifying meaning of the word “cockslapped.”

So I walk in one day for shift change and T-Mama is bug-eyed and LOSING HER SHIT. “GIRL. There is a SERIOUS CREEP MOTHERFUCKER in the back and he is freaking me out so bad. SO. BAD.”

Awesome. This is gonna be a FANTASTIC night.

So in hushed tones, in case this creepass is lurking and can hear us, T-Mama starts telling me what’s the what. He’s an older guy, pushing sixty, wearing like four shirts, a floppy sun hat, black gloves (in May, mind you)…….and several pairs of scissors on strings around his neck.

….what.

She then goes on to tell me that he’s got the crazyeyes. You know, when people get all shifty-like, and their eyes are rolling around to look at everything at once, occasionally not looking in the same direction, possibly a twitch going on- the crazyeyes. He’s also been randomly shouting at her, “TAPES! I’ve got TAPES! Tapes of the GIRLS! THE GIIIIIRLS!”

So there’s a legit crazy in the store bearing sharp objects. BITCHIN’, YO.

Over the next fifteen minutes, we’ve got one or two other customers wandering around the store, and Scissor Man shuffles out of the cock cave. Holy FUCK, ya’ll. Even if T-Mama hadn’t forewarned me, this motherfucker would have set off the creep-dar LONG before he stepped in the door. I mean, he was throwing off vibes that had me immediately praying “Oh god don’t peel off my face and wear it as a mask oh god oh god”…that kind of creepy.

So Scissor Man’s milling about the store, looking at movies and whatnot, and a woman in her early thirties walks up to the counter with a double-ended dildo and some lube. We’re still in the middle of shift change, because T-Mama’s totals are coming up WAY off, so the register’s still down; we apologize for the delay and tell her we’ll be ready in a minute if she wants to continue browsing. She hangs around the front counter, looking at the various pills and stuff to kill time, when Scissor Man lurks his way next to her.

Scissor Man: “Whatcha got there?”

Dildo Chick: “Um….a dildo.”

Scissor Man: “Let me buy that for you. HEY! PUT HER THING ON MY TAB, I’M PAYING.”

PSG: “Sorry, sir, we’re still working on shift change, so the register is down. It’ll just be a few-”

Scissor Man: “HER THING! RING IT WITH MY STUFF, HER THING!”

PSG: “…Sir, I’m sorry, but the register’s down, it’s going to be about ten mi-”

Scissor Man: “WHAT? WHY CAN’T YOU RING UP OUR STUFF, I’M BUYING HER THI-”

PSG: “REGISTER’S BROKE, CHILL. TEN MINUTES.”

And because,  you know, God’s on vacation that day or just needs something to laugh at while he’s on the shitter, Scissor Man continues in this vein for the next ten minutes, alternating between trying to give me his money and leering at Dildo Chick. Dildo Chick’s getting more and more creeped out, T-Mama’s tweaking because she thinks she’s fifty bucks short, and I’m ready to slap the shit out of him. Great start to the night, great start.

Eventually, T-Mama figures out where she added wrong and does a dance that the drawer’s even, and we’re back on track. I ring up Scissor Man for his movie and Dildo Chick’s dildo, and he walks out the door.

Dildo Chick: “…he’s gonna be waiting out there for me, isn’t he?”

PSG: “Yeah, probably, just hang out around here for five minutes and T-Mama can check if he’s still there when she leaves.”

Dildo Chick: “Thanks. He’s probably hoping to use this with me, but me and my husband and my girlfriend are celebrating my birthday tonight…the only reason I let him pay for it was so I could have fifteen more bucks to spend on booze tonight.”

Well, happy birthday indeed! You go, Dildo Chick!

The three of us shoot the shit for a few minutes while T-Mama gathers her stuff, and in the meantime, a male customer who had quietly observed the ordeal from a safe distance exits, then enters again two seconds later…”

Guy: “I pretended to forget my sunglasses in here to give ya’ll a heads up, he’s still out there actin’ a shady motherfucker.”

….fuck.

They stall for another couple minutes, then T-Mama gets impatient, since she’s gotta get to her kids. She grabs a boxcutter and stomps out the front stoop, mumbling something about “stabbin’ that fucker right in his crazyass fuckin’ eyeballs” as she yanks the door open. She closes the boxcutter and tosses it back at me while simultaneously running out the door, yelling “Yeah, that shifty bastard ran right back in his car when saw me! Girl, get your dildo and jump in your car while you got the chance!”

Dildo Girl quickly scampered out the door, and the two left, so I went about the rest of my business. Twenty minutes later, a college-age couple walks in, looking in the direction that T-Mama glared at earlier, and walked in looking baffled.

PSG: “Shady ass old dude wandering over there still?”

Girl: “OH MY GOD YEAH WHAT THE HELL”

They’re in the store for about ten minutes, and when they leave I ask  them to signal me if he’s still there or not. Thankfully, they shook their heads and gave me a thumbs-up, or else I’d have called the fuzz on that motherfucker.

I lucked out and nothing else creepy happened that night, but ever since, I keep that boxcutter sharp and handy. Never know when you’re gonna have to stab some crazyass fuckin’ eyeballs.

I get a LOT of people asking me how I could possibly enjoy working at a porn store.  They ask to hear about the weirdest customers and then ask, “Good god, how can you stand it there?”

Easy: it’s the customers you DON’T ask about that are the awesome ones.

At least once a shift, I’ll get an open-minded couple walking in whose eyes honestly light up at all the fun new stuff they’re looking to bring into their sex lives, or a pair of friends who, comfortable enough with each other to go into detail about their sex lives, will excitedly discuss the pros and cons of rabbit vibrators. These are the customers who, when I ask “Hi there, can I help you find anything?” will shout “YES!” and spend the next hour or so testing various toys, debating flavored lubes, and having an all-around great time. This is one of my two favorite types of customer.

My other favorite type: the customer that walks in nervously, peeking around the shelves, looking completely clueless. When I ask if they need help, they immediately start to blush and stammer out some semblance of “I’m not really sure what I’m looking for…this is my first time in a porn shop/I’ve never bought a sex toy before/I’m getting married soon and I’m a virgin/the lack of sex is ruining our marriage…what would you recommend?” I delight in helping out these customers, for various reasons.

First off, while I’m sure PLENTY of people would disagree with me for various reasons, most of which I can respect, I can’t stand abstinence-only sex education.  The only things it teaches are that premarital sex is wrong and that those who engage in it are dirty dirty sinners.  Let’s get one thing straight: safe, sane, and consensual sex is NEVER wrong.  It’s one of the most primal instincts humans have, why try and lock that down? Sex is natural and healthy. I can understand those who wait until marriage for religious or personal reasons, and I completely respect that, as long as they can respect and understand that everyone is not the same. What works best for you probably won’t work for someone else.

Stemming off that, I can think of a TON of things that could be taught in sex ed that are completely ignored within abstinence-only education:

What should I expect for my first time? How can I protect myself? What do I do if the condom breaks, or my protection otherwise fails during the act? My period’s late and I’m a virgin, what’s going on? My penis curves a little to the left, what’s wrong? Where can my partner and I get tested for STIs? I want to stay a virgin but still experience pleasure, is that even possible? I’ve never had an orgasm with my partner, what’s wrong with me? And the biggest question of all- I like _____, am I weird?

The answer: NO! Not weird at all, and honestly? There’s probably a whole lot of people who are into that, too. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked if we carry movies featuring this or that fetish, answered “Yeah, we have lots actually!” and gotten the relieved response, “Oh thank god, I thought there was something wrong with me.”

A lot people think my job is all about selling tokens to pervs who are just looking to get their jollies off, but it’s honestly not. Probably half of my customers are perfectly normal and just looking for something a little extra, and that’s perfectly fine.

That’s why I love those customers. I love being able to help someone find exactly what they need and see them walk out with a smile on their face and a swing in their step.

There are tons of people, both at the porn store and in my personal life, who have asked me questions about sex, gotten an answer and said “Oh my god, thank you SO. MUCH.  This has been bugging me for a long time and I didn’t know who to ask about it.”

As a result, I’ve made a Formspring account:  http://www.formspring.me/pornshopgirl

You can ask questions anonymously about anything at all, be it stuff you’re interested in regarding the porn shop or a sex ed question.  No judging, no jeering, just a straightforward answer. Ask away!

And just to let you all know, no, this blog isn’t going to change into a constant tirade about sex issues.  Just know that every once in a while, there’ll be something to read that doesn’t focus on creeps and weirdos. Let me know what you think, and what you want to read about!

That being said, check back in a couple days to hear about the biggest creeper who’s ever set foot in the store.