There I am, minding my own business as I go along in this thing called life…and I get asked to go to a Passion Party at a friend’s house this past weekend. I screw up my face and ask, “What is a Passion Party?” Well, I didn’t need a remedial lesson after that brief explanation. After laughing my obvious blush away, I said “Sure, I’ll be there. Little did I know what I was getting myself into.
My friend is great. Her enthusiasm amazes me and she is always trying to get me to sell Mary Kay. I’m just not havin’ any of it. However, I appreciate her diligent attempts to rope me in. So, she wants me to come see her new place in Lake Stevens. Never been out there, and from last weekend, still never want to be out there. It’s Hicksville with a capital “H.” Flags on every house; enough cul-de-sacs to make me barf and all those gas-guzzling hunks of tin they drive out there make me mad. I was scared I was going to be mobbed by a gun-totin' Republican! Again, I digress.
This requires a back-up; my best friend, who I must say is equal to or more “passion-driven” than I am. I don’t know how that can be, but I deal. We drive 30 minutes out wondering if it was going to be worth it or not. I insist there has to be at least enough booze to make it worth my while or I’m not buying anything. I wasn’t disappointed. Rum and Coke and I’m good to go baby!
We arrive 30 minutes late. They are waiting for us down in the basement. The house smells like cigarette smoke, which immediately turns me off, but we go downstairs anyway. Seven women already drinking, laughing and ready to see the stuff life is made of; Synthetically of course. My friend and I start blending and sit down ready to begin two hours of stuff I never knew existed. Games were played. Words were thrown in all directions and often times slapped me in the face. Knowing smiles were nodded at and it was apparent that these women were horny.
I have to share one game that was played. There was a waterproof massage ball for the bath that the party hostess had and she had a d---o in the other hand. If you got a question right, you got to try the massager on your back. If you answered wrong, you were blessed with this realistic looking d---o, and you had to have it vibrate in your hand the whole time. Well, I ended up holding the thing for an hour, just because my phone rang! They punished me with that because I neglected to turn off my phone. Only I could be so unlucky. But it was rather fun. It was becoming a conversation piece and it became part of my animation as I spoke with others. I finally had to set it on the table. I think I was becoming “too” comfortable with it. It was time to put the toy away.
So an hour later after aromatherapy lotions, pheromone injected rubs and sprays, we moved on to the “hardware.” “Wow!” Is all that I can say. Can anyone say, “Too many moving parts?” I mean really people. What are you doing out there? What happened to just plain old-fashioned passion?
I gave in, bought a few things for the sport of it, you know, like a team player, ate a few chips and dip and chased it down with a brownie and I was good to go. I don’t think I’ll be attending any more Passion parties anytime soon. I have my own devices an left to them, I do just fine.
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