Over the past few days I’ve been checking out a web site that, among other things, posts freelance writing jobs. Yesterday I saw one that looked promising, so I clicked on it.
The post was titled “Creative Writer Wanted”. As I read on, it continued, “looking for a flexible, open minded creative writer"…there was my first clue…"to write copy for a Sex Toy Catalogue".
A what now?
The first thing that popped into my head was working for a darker, smarmier version of J. Peterman from Seinfeld. The second was the time Dorothy and I went to a Sex Shop.
Sidebar: Dorothy and I have a friend…let’s call her Jane since I don’t think I actually know anyone named Jane so no one who reads this will assume they know who I’m talking about. ‘Jane’ had been through a very ugly divorce. This was quite some time before I had met her, but Dorothy assured me that “he had done a real number on her!”
At this time all of us worked in the same town and used to meet once or twice a month for breakfast before work, at the ridiculous hour of 6:30am, at a local truck stop. The food was pretty good, and more importantly, the coffee cup was bottomless, and it was always fun. Right down to our beloved waitress who, if asked for another round of coffee, was quite likely to reply “you know where the pot is, and get some for that guy over there while you’re at it.” Jane had finally ventured to stick her big toe into the proverbial dating pool, but nothing serious had so far come of it, when she found herself invited to a family wedding in Punta Cana. Somewhat to Jane’s amusement (and probable fear) Dorothy and I both saw this as an opportunity for her to go all “How Stella Got Her Groove Back”, that fabulous book by Terry Kindle. Jane just laughed and dismissed the idea.
As it happened, since she had a later flight, Jane was meeting us for breakfast the morning she was to leave. We decided we needed to get her something for her trip so the night before Dorothy and I headed off to a local Sex Shop to, well, shop. Now, I have to say, I have never considered myself a prude or anything like that, I mean, I watch Showcase! But I really had no idea. There is a whole other world out there. Dorothy was pretty blasé about the whole experience and I was trying to be nonchalant myself, but it wasn’t easy. Especially when she called me Honey and jokingly said, “I think we should get that one!” as we looked up at a huge display of..um, well, never mind. We eventually ended up with a plain brown bag (what else) full of things in various colours and flavours, and requiring numerous batteries. The next morning we sat at our usual table at 6:30am with the bag in the centre waiting for Jane. Our waitress came over and asked what was in the bag, so we showed her. Next thing we knew, she was walking toward the kitchen with it hollering, “Ed, hey Ed, you gotta see this!” Luckily she came back seconds before Jane arrived.
The present was duly opened and Jane went from extreme embarrassment to hysterical laughter, especially after she found out her going away present had done the rounds of the kitchen staff, and a couple of truckers who were there for breakfast!
But back to the original point: could I write for a Sex Toy Catalogue? I got a mental image of a couple of the more unusual things I’d seen in the store and tried to imagine the description that I could write for them:
“No couple should be without this… it’s a …Seriously? It goes where?
You’ve got to be kidding!?!”
Hmm…maybe not.
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