i claim a fierce commitment to recycling and repurposing useful items tossed by my neighbors. others might refer to the front-end of my recycling strategy as dumpster diving but i rarely jump into a dumpster (despite photographic evidence to the contrary). i prowl around the trash bins on each floor of my apartment complex (especially at the end of the month during move-outs) looking for treasures to improve my abode. i’ve found lamps, dressers, bookcases, filing cabinets, microwaves, tables, throw pillows, mirrors, rugs, books…and last night i found a dildo. not just any dildo. a fluorescent pink 14-inch advanced model with clitoris stimulator encased in a camouflage bag stuffed inside a woven beach tote that also carried a beach mat, hairbrush, deodorant, and tampon.
i’m not easily icked. especially not about sex. but dildos have never done it for me. dildos are lazy instant vanilla pudding from my bisexual perspective. i know plenty of people who disagree but because i’m not hetero, i’ve never been all about the dick….flesh, jelly, silicone, acrylic, or glass. and this dildo is downright intimidating. by design, this bright pink monstrosity requires deep penetration to access its clitoral stimulator. i understand that some people enjoy deep-deep-deep penetration (and these people have a higher tendency to venn diagram overlap with those who enjoy fisting)…but my intuitive guidance system usually directs me away from make-my-innie-into-an-outie-from-inside-with-a-giant-phallus type. i haven’t confronted a dildo with these dimensions outside its new shiny plastic packaging inside the safe confines of a sex shop for many years and i’ve never discovered a dildo while scavenging trash bins.
i didn’t uncover the dildo inside the camouflage bag inside the innocent looking beach tote until i had climbed several flights of stairs and walked down the hall toward my apartment. my brain computed the length, type, and model of dildo before i paused to imagine the dildo’s former owner and the circumstances precipitating its discard. i didn’t touch the dildo, but the way my cats sniffed near where i set the beach tote next to the front door, i assume the dildo had been recently used. i’m not sure what to do with this dildo. (i never thought i’d think, write, or utter that sentence at any point in my life since i‘ve known exactly what to do with every other dildo i’ve encountered.) i’m considering donning latex gloves, putting the dildo in the dishwasher and running it through a wash cycle (without any other dishes, of course), and donating the dildo to my favorite thrift store. i take all my other found treasures i can’t use to my favorite thrift store in philadelphia that invests its profits in aids services…but i figure i ought to call first and ask if this safe-sex-supporting store would be interested in re-selling this homeless too-large dildo alongside disco balls and vintage scarves.