Warning… mature content. It only seems immature.

Seriously, if you are easily offended you can exit now.

Okay, so a group of friends have decided to pool together to buy adultish type products for a couple that is getting married. In a weak moment I let them volunteer me to do the shopping, and Friday night was my chosen time for the adventure.

I didn’t go directly after work, I’d thought I’d wait until after dark so no one would recognize my car in the parking lot of the Xtreme Adult store. I killed the daylight hours of my evening by rooting around under the stairs gathering things we need to pack for our trip (only 8 more sleeps!) It wasn’t quite dark when I finished but I head off to the store anyway. Of course I have to circle the block just to be sure I don't recognize any vehicles. Only one car out front. I don’t recognize it, it probably belongs to the employee. I deke into the store and set about my business just as darkness starts falling on the city.

Apparently everyone waits for darkness to shop in such locations. (That’s probably why they are open 24 hrs.) Within 3 minutes of being in there, the store began to fill with people. It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to whip around and see who was entering or leaving every time I hear the door open. Power-shopping, I believe they call it, when you just set about your business and get the job done.

I grab my items and head off to the till with cash in hand. Now, I work in retail so you’d think I could mentally add up my items and include the taxes and know how much I’ve spent. But no. I spend three dollars more than I have in cash. Now what do I do? I could totally humiliate myself and say, “Uh, oops. I’ll have to put one item back.” Not too likely that is going to happen. I could use my visa. No, my name will print on the receipt. I can’t have that. Debit card? I guess that’s my safest bet. The cashier may see my name in passing on the card, but it least it won’t be in print. I reach into my wallet and my hand falls on Jed’s bank card. Hmmm…. Nah, I can’t have Xtreme Adult show up on his bank statement. I’ll just have to be adult about it and be responsible for my own actions.

I take my purchases in their dark unmarked bag and head out to my car glad to have that over with. As I reach for the door handle of my car, I notice my black-sleeved arm and shoulder are covered in what appears to be grass or something. I realize I am filthy from crawling around under the stairs at home before I left. I look like I was put out to pasture before I even arrived at the sex shop.

Chances of me heading back there any time soon are slim-to-none.