Page 130 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

Because honestly? It’s kinda nice to be quiet for a hot second.

Cran’s calendar is still rolled up stinkily on my one table, and I unroll it, carefully rip out the best photo of the dogs (April), and Scotch tape it to the wall. I take a step back to admire it, my first wall hanging.

It’s a start. And now I’m feeling motivated to actually live this new life I keep talking about.

So I grab a pile of résumés and do this the old-fashioned way. I stop at every store on the main drag. I chat with the bearded guys at the record store and get talked into buying a used grunge album (I resolve to someday get a record player). I stop in Urgent Care, and sure, Jessie’s not glad to see me, but I eventually make her laugh, and when I hand her my résumé, she doesn’t immediately crumple it up. I pop into the YMMV Car Repair in case they need a receptionist or, I don’t know, someone to wash tires? I even drop into Dickie’s and meet the actual Dickie (!) who is a middle-aged lady (!!).

Honestly, I’m having a great time. Even though I’m alone, I don’t feel lonely at all.

I’m all out of résumés and am about to head home when a storefront I’ve never seen before stops me in my tracks.

Jack n’ Dils, it’s called.

There’s a banner that saysGrand Opening, Come make you openings grand!and in the window, festively arranged and gorgeously lit, are the most spectacular sex toys I’ve ever seen.

Every color of the rainbow. Shapes I never imagined in my wildest dreams.

It’s like looking in the window of a candy store.

Back in my Chris era, Ineverwould’ve been brave enough to actually go inside a store like this. Chris wanted to keep our sex life “natural,” so the only dildo I ever bought came from the internet and was, let’s just say,not the right size. I briefly used it as a doorstop, but Chris didn’t like that either.

I walk in, kind of proud of myself but also super nervous? It’s embarrassing, I’m a grown-up, I should be totally unfazed by shelves packed with sparkly dongs.

Becauseeverythingis on display in here. You know exactly the size of the toy you’re getting, that’s for sure. And there are no shadowy, creepy corners, no lurking dudes. It’s all well-lit and weirdly... cozy?

I have no idea how to behave. Act cool, Mo.

So I make a selfie duckface as I sashay across the store, and then immediately realize that was the wrong call.

I look up to see if anyone saw me and the person at the counter is smiling at me, so I think the answer is yes, they saw me.

Oh god, I’m going to have to buy something now.

I pass the shelves of lube and a table of fishnet things and realize that the vibrator display is calling to me. They’re all out of their packaging so you can see what they feel like and turn them on and everything.

I’ve stumbled into a sex toy petting zoo.

Bullets and dick-shaped things, sleek aerodynamic shapes, lots of things with bunny ears and rotating shafts and and and...

Yes, okay, Iamoverthinking this, but at heart, I’m just a girl standing in front of a wall of vibrators asking one of them to love me.

The question is,whichone?

The counter person sidles up next to me and straightens out thevibrators that I’ve just flung around willy-nilly, but they’re not being judgy or anything. Actually, their presence is sort of calming.

“Let me know if I can help,” they say with a sweet smile.

I think about saying no thanks, I got this, but after several weeks of pretending to be an expert in a thing I know nothing about, I’m ready for some expert advice.

“Actually,” I say, “I never knew there were so many options. I’d love some help.”

They talk me through all the differences using words likerumbleandzing, and honestly this feels like some Willy Wonka shit. I love it.

In the end, I decide to go with a basic model for my first outing. It doesn’t look like an actual penis, it’s just a hot pink hard plastic wand. A hot pink wand that will, with a couple AAA batteries, rock my world, at least according to the packaging.

As I pay for the wand and some lube, pretending not to think about my rapidly draining bank account, I spot a sign on the corkboard behind the counter.

Now hiring.