(When she heard the Executive Editor was struggling to pick up the slack with our Western Correspondent MIA on the ski slopes, Donna, our Senior Correspondent stepped in with this delightful and illustrated post.)
Today I had an appointment with my psychiatrist who is helping me puzzle through some work-related issues from a few years back. I firmly believe that we of the kinky persuasion need to search out medical people we can trust with the truth, and it took several interviews with counselors and psychologists to find this fabulous doc. In the interview process I asked him point-blank about his feelings on BDSM. He said he didn’t have a problem with it, that he honestly didn’t know much about it but that he was willing to learn. He then added that whether I decided we would be working together or not, he would appreciate suggestions for reading materials. Winner!!! And Doc has been true to his word. He read the books I gave him, asked insightful questions and, because he realizes how much this lifestyle is part and parcel of my interpretation of the world, hardly a session goes by that we don’t include some talk of sexual matters. We have developed an easy, almost teasing manner that works for me.
At my visit today, Doc asked whether I had followed through on some relaxation suggestions he had made at our last visit. When I replied that I had tried some but not all, he gave me a disappointed look. So, being the smart ass that I am, I asked him whether he had followed through on the suggestion I made for him at our last meeting. He looked sheepish for a moment and then laughed and said, ”Oh, I remember, you said I should get my wife a hibachi for our anniversary.” “No.” I responded, “what I said was to get your wife an Hitachi wand. The goal is to heat things up, not set your house on fire.” He then commented that they don’t use toys. Blink-blink! WHAT?? None???
I suggested that he was pulling my leg, that surely after 25 years of marriage he and his wife must have a toy box under their bed with some sexy toys. He shook his head, said there are only dust bunnies under their bed and reminded me that he is vanilla. I was puzzled, insisting that vanillas can have toys, too. He then told me I should try harder to look a bit less saddened by the idea that he is toy-less, and said that maybe I just don’t have a clear understanding for how vanilla, vanilla really is.
So, here we have a physician with a specialty in psychiatry who has never played with a pocket rocket, a dildo, or a vibrator of any kind. I could understand that he doesn’t own a flogger, paddle or nipple clamps. And maybe a St. Andrew’s cross or sex swing might be a bit over the top, but to not even have a good dildo? I really was taken aback.
We had a lovely discussion on what Bill and I keep in our toy-boxes and what I would think a vanilla man might want to keep in his toy-box, but none of the ideas seemed to appeal to him at all.
Of course the bottom line is that as long as he and his wife are happy, that is all that matters. But, quite honestly, I was both embarrassed and enlightened to learn that I have preconceived notions about the vanillas of the world that may be just as incorrect as the ideas that some vanillas have about those of us who are kinky folks.
As I left the office, Doc smiled as he patted my shoulder and said,”Try not to feel too sad for me, Donna.” To which I replied, “I’m not sad, I’m thinking about bringing you a little starter box to my next appointment and I’m thinking about what I want to put in it.”
I swear he paled just a bit.