A Virgin Shopper

Dear Diary,

The Victorian Indian in me came out the other day as I wondered into an adult shop. Yes I mean a sex shop.

I must have looked like the most obvious shoplifter as I walked in. Carefully I looked around to make sure noone could see me go in and immediately walked to the back of the shop so as if I knew exactly where I was going.

The sales assistant’s eyes were piercing in my back as I picked up books and put them back down again, pretending to look at everything but nothing at all.

Ah hah, I had been sussed. A virgin shopper… The sales assistant approached me and asked if I needed any help to which I replied “yes” when I meant to say “no”.

So around the shop I went being shown dildos, rings, ornaments, lingerie, bondage equipment, all to which I could only say ooh and aah. Yes, I felt extremely uncomfortable and wanted to buy what I came in for discreetly and walk out of there.

Then I saw something that amused me and made me feel completely relaxed. I found complete solidarity in these two middle eastern couples walking in and out of the changing rooms. The men were walking around the shop picking bits and taking it in for the women. They were touching everything and talking quite loudly as if this was the most natural place to be. I didn’t expect to see them in there and was quite shocked to see women in burkas in a sex shop.

But, how cool! Women who are perceived as prudish were a lot more comfortable in a sex shop than liberated me. I did walk out with a great self confidence. I didn’t feel cheap or dirty, just sexual.

I did walk out empty handed! I can buy online…


One Comment to “A Virgin Shopper”

  1. Great piece Bunty!

    I confess I forget sex shops even exist, they’re just not on my radar of places to go when I am shopping. Maybe that’s the Victorian in me or perhaps the Ann Summers party I went to in my uni days put me off!


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