The Sex Crate

I wasn't going to go back to Schenectady after college, but I was broke and a giant media conglomerate in Albany wanted to hire me, so I did. Living with Mom got old fast, so she agreed to rent the other flat to Julie and I. For $200 a month. We stayed until I could no longer bear to be in a long-distance relationship with The Photographer, at which point I dragged her down to live in Yonkers with me and got a job at silly Internet company #1.

This is not a story about The Photographer, though. Nor is it about Yonkers or Internet companies. It is about The Sex Crate.

Julie's parents offered to help move us from Schenectady to Yonkers. It was very nice of them. The plan was, Julie and I would fill our cars with the little stuff and drive down, and Julie's Dad, AKA Wilford Brimley would follow in the U-Haul. There was some debate about where The Mom and Grandma would ride, but Julie decided to take them in her car and put all of her shit into mine.

The packing. I had a Sex Drawer, where all of the goodies The Photographer and I had accumulated in the three years we had been together were kept. I had no intention of the Sex Drawer contents going into the U-Haul, so I threw them in a crate and moved it out into the living room with all of the stuff to put in my car. (RIP Sylvia) Julie's parents and grandmother arrived 45 minutes early without warning, in a flurry of excitement and began poking around.

In the middle of the floor was a crate. Its contents were 1 whip, 1 pair of handcuffs, 2 large bottles of lube, 3 giant boxes of condoms, various ropes, scarves, etc. for tying one up, 2 porn videos, an envelope containing 3 rolls of dirty pictures and 2 "erotic games" we had purchased. Julie's mother began asking me how I was, what the new apartment was like. Wilford Brimley went to open the truck. Julie's grandmother started packing up some of Julie's clothes. Julie, panicked, stepped in front of The Sex Crate and tried to distract her mother. There is no distracting Julie's mother. Then my mother and aunt arrived. There was no conspicuous way to get The Sex Crate out of there, so Julie and I took turns standing in front of it. It felt like when we were in high school and Julie's mom caught us smoking pot and we tried to hide it but she wasn't buying it and took all of our drug paraphernalia away.

Then, Mama Cavefish picked up the sex crate, looked at me sternly and nodded toward the door. I. Wanted. To. Die. She hurried me outside and told me to hurry up and open the trunk so she could put it in.

Mom: What is all this stuff?

Me: How am I supposed to know? It's Julie's.

Mom: Thank God! Julie's kind of a perv, huh?

Me: Totally.