Don't Try This at Home!

Finished October 26, 2007
Don't Try This at Home!

Cheryl Lee

A southern girl's life is often somewhat sheltered, and mine is no exception. My mother was very strict, which didn't protect me from some cousinly exploration at a very young age, but did put an end to it when she found it out. I was mostly a good little girl, being a virgin until I was 18, in college, and engaged to the guy.

Boy, have I made up for lost time! My first lover/fiancé was a talented director in the bedroom (or kitchen table, or couch, or shower, or bent over the washing machine), and he taught me many interesting and fun things about staging scenes, from props to scenery to even bit players. It was mostly those bit players that made that fiancé never become a husband, as I told him to take that show on the road.

But the sense of adventure, exploration, and fun stuck with me. I have done many things that my mother never, ever wants to hear about. Most of them (my mother's opinion notwithstanding) I really enjoyed and remember fondly. This story is, unfortunately, not about one of those!

At the time of this tale, I was living with the man who would become my second ex-husband. But I'm getting ahead of myself, seeing as how he wasn't even my second husband yet. We met in the old-fashioned way--in a chat room. He soon decided that 750 miles one-way was too far to drive for a booty call, and as his job paid better than mine, I moved to where he lived. Eventually we married, created a couple of kids, spontaneously combusted, etc. That is another story, another one about too many bit players. But I digress.

We had lots of interesting friends, and we'd heard some of them talking about playing with food. It was intriguing, so off to Wal-Mart we went. We selected the chocolate sauce, the strawberry flavored ice cream topping, and some whipped cream…yanno, the usual. We also got some frozen melon balls. So we head for the checkout counter, and onto the conveyor belt went condiments, melon balls, and a 12-pack of flavored condoms. When the cashier, who was trying really hard to keep her eyes in her head and her mouth shut, told us to have a good night, he could not resist. "Looks like it, huh?" Poor girl turned eight shades of bright crimson. We laughed all the way to the car.

At home, the condiments were a VERY nice lead-in to the frozen melon balls. To make it extra-fun, he tied my hands above my head. He then inserted one frozen melon ball. Encouraged by my gasp and "ooh," he inserted another. My eyes went wide, so he kept going. He must have put 5-6 of those things in there. My oohs were gaining in loudness and intensity, and he finally realized there was some amount of desperation in my voice! (Note to guys: when ooh turns to OW, you've gone too far.)

He asked if I was okay, and I told him the area was numb and painful at the same time. He got all manly and said "Here, I'll warm you up," and put himself against me. I asked if it was in, and his eyes went wide and he said NO a trifle too loudly. I told him I was numb and couldn't feel anything. So he tried to retrieve the offending fruit. Yes, I said TRIED.

Do you know what happens to frozen things when you put them in a warm, wet place? They LUMP! And the new lump of frozen succulent fruit would not budge. It was stuck. I started freaking out, understandably, I'm sure. He tried to separate them with no luck. Finally I filled my hot-water bottle with warm water and attached the hose, and managed to flush some of them out. I asked for a count so I could be sure that we had an equal in/out ratio, only to be told he hadn't kept track. This was need-to-know information! I had visions of serious infections in my head. He offered to make it up to me by probing for them with a special tool. By then, though, my passion had cooled along with my nether regions. He did make it up to me later, after about a half-hour or more of flooding the area with warm water to be sure all was clear.

There's not really a moral to the story…I mean, why start now with the morals, right? But if there is a lesson to be learned from all of this, it is DON'T put honeydew on his honey-do list.

At least not if it's frozen.