The Time An Ex Tried To Steal My Sex Toys.

Because breaking my heart wasn’t enough, apparently.

Recently, I asked my followers on my social media a few questions about sex toys.

Why?

Well, partly because I was curious about what they enjoyed using, and because I get approached by sex toy companies fairly regularly at thiskindagirl, and sometimes I am asked to market their products, so I wanted to find out what products my audience are interested in.

Remote-controlled vibrators, couples toys and collars, apparently.

My Doxy wand- one of the heavy-duty plugin at the wall sounds like cordless drill jobbies.

Now, not only did all this sex toy conversation generate a few exchanges with my followers, it also stirred up a memory of the time an ex tried to steal my sex toys from me. And they weren’t just ‘sex toys’; these were my most treasured pieces of kit. My most valuable personal pleasure plug ins; and when I found out what he had done, I went ballistic.

(I was still in I’m too angry to talk to you phase at the time the crime was committed)

The items in question were:

My Doxy wand- one of the heavy-duty plugin at the wall sounds like cordless drill jobbies.

An anal hook- that I had had the pleasure of being the receiver of and the slipper insider of; an item that I consider one of my more specialist pieces.

My ten ins king cock. Not for the faint of heart! For when you just need cock!

You know that horrible transitional time when you are in the process of splitting up? When one of you has decided to kick the other out, and their belongings are piled up next to the front door, waiting to be removed whilst the kicker outer is at work, thus avoiding further anger from them? Well, it was that time. And it was his belongings that were stacked against the hallway wall waiting to be collected whilst I was at work that afternoon.

I remember my shift that day started at 12, so I had a few hours free before dragging myself into central London. I decided to open my wardrobe and draws and have a damn good re-organisation. Good riddance dickhead, and all your holey socks! So I naturally started with my underwear draws, then worked down until my hands rested on the handles of my ‘kink draw’.

I pulled it open. And instantly frowned.

Somethings not right, wheres my…and my.. and my…

I went to the suitcase under the bed. Checked again. Nope.

Down the side of the bed? Checked. Nope.

Weekend away bag? Nothing but a few pairs of lacy knickers and an unopened packet of pocket tissues.

I re-checked the kink draw.

My beloved items had GONE.

I cast my angry eyes around the flat, and they settled on his pile of stuff.

He wouldn’t? Would he? A little voice in the back of my mind said

‘Hell, Rosie, at this point, you don’t know what this one is capable of’

Yes, voice. I know exactly what you mean.

And I proceeded to open up his suitcases. At this point, I’d like to mention that much of my initial anger at not being able to locate my items had subsided and had been replaced by what only could be described as nervous dread.

Instead of rummaging, I was carefully lifting and replacing; I didn’t want to find them in here, as that would confirm my fears that he really was a shite. And despite the situation I found myself in, I didn’t want to think any less of him.

But no. I’m afraid, as I opened the lid of the last box, concealed under a pair of jeans that I never liked anyway were my precious items.

I reached in, scooped them up like a mother retrieving her child from daycare and carried them into my room.

I placed them on my bed, returned to the box, carefully closed the lid, walked back into my bedroom, and screamed.

I clenched my fists as angry tears swelled behind my eyes, mixed with shock, amusement, and disgust and just what the fuck?

Naturally, I did what most women do and called my bestie.

‘M, he’s tried to take my vibrator.’

‘what?’

‘my vibrator’

‘wait, what..like.. the one you use.’

‘yea, like the one I use’

‘but, that’s just, like, fucked up. Wait, he wasn’t going to use them on someone else, was he?’

‘I, I don’t know, I don’t fucking know?’

‘Second-hand sex toys?’

I burst out laughing, and then tears welled in my eyes.

‘He’s taken my relationship M, and now he’s trying to take my orgasms too?’

‘Does he have no shame?’

‘Apparently not;

‘What you going to do?’

‘I’ve taken them back and I’ll hide them.’

‘What if he notices you have taken them?’

‘I’ll be waiting.’

And upon reflection, now that I have had a few years to calm the fuck down, I find myself pondering a few interesting points.

Should I of let him use them on another woman? And see what response he got?

There have been times when I have used other people’s toys. Sometimes using another couple’s or woman’s toy can be really hot, especially if it’s a double-ended dildo or strap-on, but the context is different.

Maybe he took them out of spite as he knew they were some of my favourites and was still bitter about me throwing him out?

And finally, maybe he wanted to use them on himself?

I’ll never know for certain, but post that break-up, we went into lockdown, so I was delighted I retrieved them when I did! ;)