by Backseat Boohoo

There are few things I feel more passionately about than education. Education is, in my opinion, what makes the human existence bearable, and it is therefore of the utmost importance that everyone receive a proper education. I’m not speaking solely of academic education, either, because hey, what’s the use of being able to analyze Shakespeare’s plays from start to finish if nobody ever taught you how to make a pot of coffee or brush your teeth? Lessons in life are more important than we think.

Keeping this manifesto of mine in mind, I’m sure you can all imagine my surprise when I received a very special text message one chilly October evening. The message was from my “gay boyfriend,“ who works as a Community Advisor (CA) at a neighboring university. The question was simple: “Would you like to do a sex toy program at [insert university’s name here]?”

I wish I could tell you I thought long and hard about the proposal and composed an eloquent, charming response, but the truth is, I immediately texted back “HELL YES” and proceeded to squeal with glee.

Of course, we had to make a few phone calls to lock the program in. My friend (henceforth referred to as “Male CA”) had to formally introduce me to his friend, “Female CA,” who had suggested a sex toy program in the first place. We also had to discuss the idea with their higher-ups. By the end of the first week of October, the program was green-lighted, and I was preparing informational handouts and requesting supplementary toys from generous companies like EdenFantasys. I had a distinct focus for the program: to educate people about sex toy materials, to show off the various types of toys available, and to explain how to use these toys safely and pleasurably. In essence, I envisioned the bachelorette sex toy party’s cosmopolitan older sister.

We set the program date for Saturday, October 24, figuring it would give us plenty of time to complete all of the necessary materials. Then disaster struck: on Monday, October 19, Male CA informed me that the higher-ups had suddenly “struck down” the program. I contacted Female CA, who explained that her boss was suddenly timid about the idea of a sex toy program, supposedly because she was worried I would try and sell products during the program. Female CA said she was attending a one-on-one chat with her boss on Wednesday, and that the boss intended to call me immediately after said talk. By 10pm on Wednesday night, I was in a panic.

I finally resolved to call the Boss Lady myself. Female CA scrounged up her number, and I wandered out of my Thursday morning politics class to beg in the name of dildo-lovers everywhere. The call seemed to aid my case: the Boss Lady seemed relatively impressed with my passion and the professional manner in which I intended to give the program. She promised to look over my handouts and PowerPoint presentation “in about 10 minutes,” as she was attending a business meeting. She also mentioned that she would “discuss” the program’s viability with her colleagues.

I sent the requested documents as soon as I hung up the phone. Less than half an hour later, I received a curt e-mail response informing me that the university could not hold the program. No actual reason for this sudden cancelation was provided.

My friends and I are still trying to figure out which slide on my PowerPoint presentation set her off. Thing 1 thinks it was the medical picture of a man’s prostate being stroked by a floating finger, while Thing 2 insists it was the picture of a lingerie-clad beauty lounging on a Liberator Wedge and Ramp. Personally, I think her delicate sensibilities were most offended by the floppy pink double-ended dildo I used as a visual aid on my “dildos” slide, but hey, we could all be wrong!

Suffice to say, I was feeling pretty down after all of this. My confidence in my ability to provide a proper sexual education to the vibrator novice was torn to ribbons, and I felt personally responsible for the sex toy companies and manufacturers who had so kindly sent me toys, catalogs, and coupon cards for the students to peruse. But when I thought hope was lost, Female CA pulled through: she reserved a room in the library as a student rather than a CA, removing any and all ties to the housing department, and began secretly promoting the program via Facebook. We pushed the program back to 1pm on Sunday, October 25, and Thing 1 and Thing 2 joined me for the long ride out to the neighboring university.

We spent the Saturday before the program fortifying ourselves for the educational typhoon to come. (And when I say we “fortified” ourselves, I really mean we had one too many mixed drinks at the local bar and flounced around in the neighborhood costume shop. Which is totally what people do when they’re preparing for a big speech. What? Stop looking at me like that!) On Sunday morning, we woke up bright and early to fancy ourselves up and head over to the library, bags full of sex toys in tow. By 12pm, nervousness was starting to set in, and I began going through what I like to call “the motions of vanity”: I re-applied my lipstick half a dozen times, I adjusted my stockings every other minute, I fussed with my hair until it was a mass of frizz from the trauma…the realization that I was about to wave a fake vagina under people’s noses hit me hard and fast.

Finally, at 1pm, the library opened. We began setting up in the reserved room, which was actually very nice and private, thanks to the lack of glass walls and the lone entryway. At about 1:15, when only 3 or 4 people had showed up (including Male CA), I began to worry that something else had gone wrong. Sure enough, Female CA appeared and pointed out yet another snag in the program: we had accidentally scheduled the program at the same time as the football game. And let me tell you two things: the folks in my state love football, and the kids at our colleges will find any excuse they can to drink themselves in to oblivion on a Sunday afternoon.

We held off the program until about 1:30, at which point we had half a dozen individuals in the audience. Thing 1 manned the table laden with sex toys, inserting batteries and removing items from their packages whenever the program outline deemed it necessary, and Thing 2 controlled the PowerPoint. And me? I stood in front of the room, scared shitless that nobody would take me seriously, or that I would forget some super-important fact and thereby ruin the sex toy experience for the loyal attendees, or that somebody would tattle to the housing department and the Sexual Gestapo would rush in and arrest us.

And yet, as I went on with the presentation, I realized something: though the crowd was small, they were definitely interested. They were willing to ask questions and didn’t flinch when I passed around products, although the Vibratex Rabbit Habit’s rotation feature almost sent one girl in to fits and the Hitachi Magic Wand’s power surprised everyone who touched its off-white head. There was giggling and laughing, and the atmosphere was open and light-hearted.

The end of the program was probably the best part. I received several excellent questions during the “question and answer” session, including:

• “If we shouldn’t use regular handcuffs for bondage play, what should we use?”
• “How does the WEARER enjoy a harness?”
• and of course, “How much does this all cost?”

At the official closing of the program, the attendees were invited to grab coupons and samples, generously provided by EdenFantasys and other great companies, and to examine the toys some more. More people had wandered in by this point, and all kinds of questions and inquiries flew. People were particularly fascinated with the Lelo Gigi and the original Fleshlight; several people asked where to buy a Tantus Alumina Motion, while one guy couldn’t get over the fact that glass toys existed and asked me several times if I found the nubs on toys “pleasurable.” A few of the attendees were CAs, and they asked me if I could present on sexual health day or get a job through the health center. I even got to shamelessly hit on a few people, and between you and me, a little flirtation with a vibrating cockring in-hand is a day-maker.

In total, the actual program took about an hour to run through, while the chit-chat and discussion session that followed tacked on an additional half hour or so. I was down on myself, though; I recognized a few points I’d forgotten to cover and a few ridiculous stories I’d forgotten to tell. But everyone assured me that it was a blast, and I was receiving positive feedback days after the fact. Female CA told me, “Everybody’s still talking about!” while Male CA informed me that the attendees were telling everybody what they’d missed, prompting requests for a repeat of the program.

Yet I returned to my own university, my own apartment, and my own life. I returned my business dress to the closet and went back to work as an ordinary student. Then I received a text message from Female CA that would sum up the harrowing experience in two short sentences and keep me laughing for days:

“So yesterday, my boss talked with me and made it clear that you could never present on campus. I was laughing on the inside.”

I would like to give a special “Thank you” to the people who made this program possible:

• To Thing 1 and Thing 2, my dearest friends, for helping me present the program and answer the onslaught of questions at the very end;
• To Male CA and Female CA, who asked me to visit their university in the first place and fought tirelessly to keep the show on;
• To my twin brother, who attends this neighboring university and kindly offered his dorm to my friends and I while he went home for the weekend;
• To EdenFantasys, Liberator, and Babeland for providing supplementary toys and other materials to enhance the program’s depth;
• To the people who provided words of encouragement when the program seemed likely to fail; and
• To those who did attend and made it all worth presenting.