I decided recently it would be a great idea to inventory and organize ALL my toys. I did not quite realize what that would entail until I was piling things on the bed and wondering if I’d left things over at someone else’s house*
I’ve amassed quite a collection of toys over the years. In my imagination what this should look like is:
I have a walk-in closet with excellent lighting that is filled to the brim with my collection, all on display in a way that suggests I hired a consultant who usually builds museum exhibits. When I desire a toy, I dramatically fling open the double doors, pause for a moment because I – yes, even I, the mistress of all these riches – am awestruck by the beauty of this room. I then sweep in, my silk robe swirling behind me, and drift from case to case carefully considering the merits of each item. So spoiled for choice am I that I often lose track of time and my partner has to bring in trays of fruit and cheese and a glass of wine to revive me so that I may continue gazing upon my domain.
What it actually means is, well. . . .
Typing that out, it sounds like I’m so rich and/or spoiled I am practically swimming in sex toys which I turn up my nose at because the color doesn’t go with my décor, or the buttons aren’t exactly in the right place for me. That’s not exactly how those disorderly boxes came about.
I do have a lot of toys I love. So there are quite a few keepers. Of the second-string/reject pile, well. Some were gifts. Some were from when I used to review toys for an online entity I shall not name, and some represent a waste of money.
I had been sort of on the fence myself about cheap toys. So many are inexpensive but great – and some expensive and “high-end” toys are just crap.
I’ll have more to say about this next week. First I need to dig through that pile and organize them – by color, of course. So I can match them to my bedding, lingerie, and wall art. Because I am fancy.
* I did. I definitely did.