Vancouver
2 min

Cruisin’

“Wanna go porn shopping with me?” My friend’s voice sounded eager on the phone. “I need some stuff to help me… visualize.”

“Um…” I paused, “I’m in jammies. 30 Rock is on.”

“Okay. How about sex toys, then?”

“What’s this about?” I stirred my Ovaltine and paused the show on a still frame of Alec Baldwin stroking his hair.

“It’s been so long,” she said, her voice shy and uncomfortable, “since, well… you know.”

“You had sex?”

“Yeah.”

A mother of two rosy-cheeked toddlers, my friend is also a kinky-curious bisexual who hasn’t been with a woman for over a decade. And she’s mid-divorce. And she has a full-time job.

In a conversation we had a few months ago, she reasoned that before she even attempts to get back in the scene, she should get a few items for her tickle trunk. She based this reasoning on Shakti Gawain’s book called Creative Visualization in which she urges her readers to see the object of their desire in their minds’ eye in order to manifest it as reality.

“Now? Right this second?” I groaned.

“The kids are asleep and my ex’s aunt is here and she said I could take off for an hour. Besides, there’s a women’s dance next weekend and I want to be prepared.”

She sounded the way I sound when I get on my Pandemic Preparedness Rant. (There is no such thing as “too ready” or “too well stocked.”)

“You’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Maybe you’ll meet someone; maybe you won’t. But one thing’s for sure: you need to chillax, dude.”

“Easy for you to say. I’m terrified. Maybe things have changed but it used to be that lesbians were not exactly fond of women like me.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re wearing a T-shirt summarizing your identity. Just be your charming self and if anyone has a problem with who you are, tell them to get lost.”

“Nobody says that.”

“Fair enough. Then tell them that bisexuality is a completely valid sexuality. They’ll like your chutzpah.”

“You’re coming with me, right? As my wing man… or wing woman… or, you know, moral support.”

“Ah, geez,” I said. “Me?”

“Yeah. Come on. It’ll be fun. I can learn from you and copy your moves.”

“Wha?! Did you just say you could learn from my moves?”

I adjusted myself and momentarily ceased trimming my cuticles with my little Swiss Army knife. “I hate to tell you this but if copying my moves is your big plan of action, then you better get your boots on and go get that porn because you are so not going to be scoring.”