Pardon my one-track mind. It’s fixated on sex yet again. I’ve been talking to my boyfriend about my decision to finally purchase a sex toy, and he has generously offered to shoulder the expense. Of course, as an independent, salaried woman, this was never my intention in the first place, but I accepted the offer as a token of affection. 
It must have been a Jamaican dong to be able to hurt that hard
Being a beginner, I’ve been researching on the different types of sex toys, particularly the ones that are fairly simple and discreet. (Start small, I have to remind myself. Start slow.) Useful links include the rah-rah-rah, there’s-absolutely-no-harm-in-trying-but-if-it-makes-you squeamish-its-okay-to-stop articles at Too Timid.
Mental checklist: do I want a dildo or a vibrator? Made of what material? Based on the material, what lube composition should I buy? Is it waterproof? What kind of batteries should I put in? This endeavor needs a Toyota Business Practices-style concept paper: background, objective, problem, proposed solution, benefits, and the toe-curling conclusion.
The most important step is to scout for sellers of these highly-prized yet discreetly hidden products. They’re like soft contraband around here in this predominantly Roman Catholic country – rarely discussed in public by a young, courteous, single career woman. The world’s search engine and Evil Progenitor of Mountain View comes to the rescue.
In case your curiosity gets the better of you, here are some online sites that I’ve managed to dig up. The Lovestore Manila sells toys online, and they also have a brick-and-mortar setup along Pablo Ocampo (Vito Cruz). Another Google result, Manila Sex Toys, doesn’t have the luxury of owning a store offline, and the site design throws me off. I would not like to buy my first, precious, momentous vibrator from a website with blatant disregard for web standards, not to mention pictures of matronas lining the bottom ad space. My vag is picky like that, what can I say? Pleasure Place, located in Metrowalk and Boracay, has been featured in newspaper articles. Pride Exchange is another famous shop located smack in the middle of the den of sin, Malate. For ol’ South-of-Manila-dwelling me, the store with the most convenient location is Bare Essentials at Festival Mall, Alabang.
Ideally, I’d love to go to a meatspace showroom and not stuff my shopping cart with a random pick based on a pretty wicked .gif of the “strobing 8-inch monster with revolving pleasure beads!” Shame and queasiness at being sighted in a store of dubious moral repute do not faze me; it’s a personal, take-charge decision about my body and my pleasure. Why should I be abashed? Same score with me, a single woman, buying condoms at your friendly neighborhood twenty-four-hour convenience store: it’s a conscious, responsible decision to prevent pregnancy and STDs; what’s your beef?
[Sometimes I deliberately act casual when buying my flavored prophylactic of choice, for shallow kicks. It tends to make people around me uncomfortable. The counter person always handles it gracefully, though. Kudos to all these well-trained, jaded professionals.]
Plus, what a newb really needs is an informed, understanding, non-icky salesperson to guide her in making the right choice. Sadly, I have a gut feeling that finding the sympathetic owner/seller is a pipe dream. Once, I took the leap of going into Bare Essentials. Examined the rather trashy lingerie, most of which were not in my size, and finally moved on to the colorful array of lubes, toys and furry handcuffs. All the time feeling the eagle eye of the middle-aged nanay-type saleslady following me around. The boudoir of base sensuality played background music that totally shattered my excited buzz into a million disappointed shards: it must’ve been Sarah Geronimo, the ultimate libido-enhancer.
Worst of all, she worked in a goddamn depraved sex toy store… and she looked bored. The expression is understandable in some way. They probably didn’t get a sizable traffic of customers; if any, most of them would have looked around curiously, acting nonchalant or trying to suppress giggles. I would never get any tailored, knowledgeable advice from her. But who knows? Maybe she was really a MILF minx in disguise, and I shortsightedly did not give her a chance.
Research skimming done. So, should I take the trip to Metrowalk and brave the traffic cesspool that is EDSA and Ortigas? Or travel to the less obscure Vito Cruz-situated store? What about braving the icy, disapproving, disinterested salesnazis of Alabang? Lastly, should I just vote with my PayPal account and have my new play companion shipped in an innocuous box bearing false company names? Decisions, decisions.
Regardless of which proprietor I choose though, I assure you that this blog will be all abuzz and vibrating with excitement when I finally get my hands on the little fucker.