There’s A Sex Trampoline In My Living Room.
But really —what should I do with this thing?!
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My apartment is far from being featured on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens. In the living room, my Craigslist couch anchors haphazard DIY wall art; bikes, helmets, and locks clutter one corner; and everywhere else is evenly sprinkled with miscellaneous clothes, shoes, and unopened mail of three girls who are making a slow mosey into adulthood. Still, its comfortable and functional and not too hard on the eyes.
Recently, I acquired a new piece of furniture. But maybe a better word would be equipment? Or toy? You decide.
Here’s the backstory:
When I met Matt, one of the most magical things about our connection was how “down” we both were. That is to say, we were both really open minded about trying anything and everything — whether it buzzed, plugged, tied, gagged, slipped, slid, hurt, bruised or tickled. One of us would suggest, and the other would nod and agree with varying levels of enthusiasm.
A few weeks after we met, Matt and I were video chatting when he told me to “Do a Google Image search for sex trampoline.”
“Oooook,” I chuckled, as my screen filled up with thumbnail photos of this athleti-rotic device.
As I clicked-to-enlarge a few, I caught a glimpse of the smile on Matt’s face.
“Do you see it?” he asked, eyes bright.
I laughed and said something along the lines of yes-but-what-the-hell-is-this?! before he directed my next search.
“Wait, wait. Look up body bouncer on YouTube.”
I complied, again, and seconds later the funky beats of Sexy and I know It were filling my bedroom as I watched pink and blue bodies bouncing.
I laughed again, this time more quizzically.
“Uhhh…that’s…funny? Or cool? I mean…do you want to try that?”
I was genuinely confused, and Matt was notably disheartened. This was the first time he suggested something that I wasn’t completely gung-ho about.
“I’m really surprised you’re not more excited about this,” he shared frankly.
I wasn’t turned off by it at all — it just wasn’t doing anything for me. Like — at all. Nothing. Not one nerve ending in my body was titillated by the thought of straddling this contraption.
But maybe I was missing something.
So I replayed the video.
LMFAO ramped up for the second time, and my eyes wandered. I looked to see what company it was uploaded by.
HandiJoy
Hmm…Never heard of it. But wait — what’s that logo?
Oooh yeah, that’s right.
Blissfully unaware — and with nothing but pure and perverse intentions — Matt had pulled the trigger on purchasing a sex-assistance device designed for people with physical disabilities or limitations.
Translated from French: HandiJoy advises, designs and distributes products to help couples overcome physical mobility problems for a more fulfilling sex life.
There’s no way you’d know this, so: Matt and I do not have any physical handicaps.
I mean…are my triceps a little sore the day after I give an old fashioned HJ? Maybe. Do I breathe a little too heavy when I have to do anything doesn’t involve my back on the mattress? Probably. Have I ever dismounted, rolled over, and covered myself with a blanket mid-coitus because I’m sleepy? OKAY, fine, YES.
But aside from that kind of you-should-really-hit-the-gym-more-often stuff, I am without physical mobility problems.
Dawning on this realization we shared a laugh and decided that there was no reason we couldn’t, or shouldn’t still try it. Frankly, some of these moves seem to require above-average mobility and coordination:
A week or so later, Matt came to visit. I returned home from work that day to find the Body Bouncer sex trampoline waiting at my front door, assembled and ready for a test run.
That night, Matt and I hooked up — a few times, actually. We also drank wine and rolled around on my carpet and bought fried chicken from the grocery store and tried to illegally download Star Wars and spooned and laughed and lots in between.
But we didn’t use the trampoline. Not on purpose — it just never found its moment in our night. He left the next day and agreed to let me have custody of it until we saw each other again.
That was three months ago; Matt is no more; the Body Bouncer remains un-christened. It’s almost starting to feel like one of those I-want-the-first-time-to-be-special situations. But do I? Who knows.
So, it sits. Inconspicuously. Claiming a small amount of space on the living room floor. While I haven’t bounced my body on it sexually, it has been used for:
- an extra seat for a guest
- modified push-ups
- a conversation piece (actually: the conversation piece)
- making my very-short roommate sit on it so I can delight in the humor of her feet dangling above the ground
- a shield from sudden drunken-friend attack
- a drying rack for clothes
- an excuse to write this blog
I’m torn, really. Will this toy ever live the life it was destined for? Maybe, maybe not.
Chapter 2 of this story will likely be titled in one of two ways:
Option 1: I Boned On A Sex Trampoline And Now All Other Sexual Encounters Are Meaningless
Option 2: 38 Uncommon Uses for the HandiJoy Body Bouncer
So the ball is in your court, people. Cast your votes of confidence— or suggest 31 additional alternate uses.
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For other pieces in this Publication, check out
https://medium.com/navigating-the-sea-of-singledom
