Who knew fairy-tale endings could be so sexy?

So many middle-aged women come through my sex shop door and are simultaneously shocked and relieved to see standing behind the counter a young woman, roughly the age of their daughters, who is able to speak so frankly about sex and all the internalized taboo passed down through the generations.

The feeling never gets old. I have accepted my position in life as one of the cutest socially sanctioned checkpoints on the path that traffics only in black market shame. Your self-hatred gets you no where around here. You either leave that nonsense at the border or I turn you away left to once again start that round trip back to the despondent place from which you came.

With the proper ID, however, and a stated purpose of wanting only to love yourself and your partner(s) better, I can in fact grant you free passage and a cart blanch visa to work and study as long as you like in this exotic land of enchantment.

The secret, I tell these women in so many words, is that the Renaissance never ended, and we are all, each of us, heir to a throne. Just beyond the border of my sex shop door lays the path that leads safely back to this position of power. It is a place where each woman can safely reclaim the passionate, uncensored sexuality that is rightfully theirs and maybe, just maybe, live happily ever after.

Slutmuffin
Special to Metromix