For the first time, she wasn’t the reason I was making the winding trek down the Pacific Northwest Coast.
It was the reason. She said she would mail it, but I didn’t trust her. It was mine, and I needed it back.
Sure, I had other excuses to drive five hours—giant redwoods, camping, time with friends—respectable things to tell my parents. Yet, as I lay shivering around the campfire late at night, the thought of it was what warmed my special insides.
I began calling her The Wind years ago for the way she blew in and out of my life. We dated without going on a date, slept together without sleeping, and finally, about a year ago, made it official. Just after our anniversary, it was apparent I needed to blow her away one last time, and with the support of my wonderful friends, I ended it.
Two of those wonderful friends are Token Straight Guy (also known as my future baby daddy for his gorgeous looks) and Captain Planet (called that for her environmental activism). Being the great friends they are, they were willing to come along for the exchange. The Wind had a tendency to blow me off course, and they were there to keep me on track. They promised ice cream if I didn’t yell at, or kiss her, but they need not worry. Things had changed, and she was no longer the tumultuous tempest she used to be for me. I was here for it, not her.
I may have changed, but she hadn’t. When we went out to her beat-up truck, it reeked of the reason we broke up. I handed her house key back and she handed me a black box. Inside was a pair of slippers, a black and red scarf, some pearl earrings, and a porcelain one-inch tall swan figurine. There was not, however, a 9 inch, silicon, raised vein, purple dildo with matching harness.My friend Woodworks believes that toys should die with a relationship, buried away with all the other once pleasurable experiences that had now become painful to endure. I, on the other hand, believe in boiling off the bad juju and find it cathartic to wash off the essence of my ex.
I went to Mexico, chopped off my hair and set a profile on Curve personals. I saw our exchange as the last bath before I was clean of us. It’s not that I was hostile towards her, we ended as amicably as these things can end, but I was ready to move on.
The Wind, however, had not accepted that our relationship was already down the drain and halfway out to sea. While I cleansed, she clung.
We attempted to converse, but it was difficult with Token Straight Guy giving her the shifty-eye every time she looked his way. He turned red when I told him she forgot the dildo, but that could have been from the $1 PBR specials the bar was having.
The next day I went to her house and received another box, this time of the shoe variety and full of my purple dildo along with the pink double harness I had all but forgotten about. The matching purple harness, however, was missing. She offered to have me search her bedroom for it, but I opted instead to leave. I was afraid I would lose out on my ice cream reward if I stayed any longer, and not for kissing her.
My temper partially subsided by the time I made it across state lines. I tried to convince myself that pink and purple didn’t look all that bad together, and that I was a little too high femme with a matching dildo and harness anyways. But who am I kidding? I love the high femme aspect of the matching ensemble, why else would I also have matching tights and lingerie?
It took me awhile, but I came to terms with my loss. I followed Woodworks’ advice and let the harness die with the relationship. The Wind, who had been my future for so many years, was now my past. I resolved to shop around for new sex toys while shopping around for new sex partners. I was moving on to bigger, brighter, whorier things, and it felt good.