A little box was delivered to my house today: a box of (spoken in hushed whisper) sex toys.
I’ve been writing a piece about subscription services for Good Taste Magazine’s blog (read it here). As many of you know, I’m no stranger to subscription services. I co-founded one with my brilliant business partner-in-crime, Jane Holdcroft, called Lucky Dog Gift Services. I’ve always been fascinated with this online shopping model, and writing about it was the logical next step.
Thanks to Lucky Dog, Zach and Kea, my two dogs, believe that all gift boxes belong to them. When Health Box arrived, the two errant hounds assisted with the opening of the box and Zach carried off a packet of health crunchies. Kea inspected the rubber theraband for toy potential. The two were appalled that this box was not intended for dogs. On the other hand, the humans in the house were thrilled by the size of the box and its quality content.
Of course, the dogs believe that Health Box was a glitch in the muttrix. So when Foxy Box arrived, they couldn’t wait to get stuck in. I have been mugged by wet noses and doggy drool from the front door to my spot at the kitchen table.
And here I sit, with the small black and white box in front of me. Kea stands expectantly at my side, while Zach lifts a paw, hoping for a treat.
Foxy Box is South Africa’s first gift box subscription geared for the adult market. Members receive a discreet box of intimate products on a monthly basis. The aim, according Foxy Box, is to “empower couples and individuals in their sexuality”. No need to repeat myself though – head over to The Good Taste blog to read more about it.
Here follows though the “tale of the opening”:
Pink tissue paper sealed with a circular Foxy Box sticker conceals the items inside. I carefully peel this off and peek inside. I find a Pina Colada flavoured lubricant from Durex, Pjur Personal Cleaning Fleece and a range of silicone shapes closely resembling the fauna and flora of a Mexican desert. The cactus, the desert cottontail rabbit, a single-stemmed euphorbia-type plant (later to be identified as The Anal Plug).
Kea, the golden retriever, is now resting her head on my knee, gazing at me with those plaintive brown eyes. She senses toys. She assumes they are for her.
What? This is absurd! Zach offers me his most disdainful expression and lopes out of the kitchen. Kea retreats under the table (her version of out).
I search the box for instructions. Inside a small black bag are: batteries, a chrome and black capsule and a pamphlet. Instructions!? Alas, no.
The pamphlet details in 8 languages Vibrator Care Instructions, Battery Care Instructions and Warnings. There’s one in particular that I find odd: “Do not use on unexplained calf pain”.
Firstly, the calf is quite far down south from the intended area of use (aka The Vagina). Secondly, and possibly more bizarre, at some point in R&D, someone must have actually used it on an unexplained calf pain causing a severe enough reaction to warrant placing this useful piece of advice on the warning label. Now that’s just odd.
Following the instructions, I insert batteries into the silver capsule. At least now I know that these toys are a set of mini vibrators, and not Arizona desert finger puppets given a Vegas facelift (think purple silicone minus the bright lights and you’re on the right track). But what do they do and where do they go?
Mr Sanchez, my husband, arrives home.
“Google will know,” he says wisely, pointing out that the euphorbia looks a lot like an anal plug. I eye him suspiciously wondering how he knows this.
I consult The Oracle. Within seconds I’m wading through a plethora of adult toys sold online and the silicone euphorbia is forgotten. My god, I think, this is bigger business than dog toys! Goodbye Lucky Dog and hello Lucky Lady!
An email pings into my inbox. It’s from Foxy Box. Finally, instructions for the Mini Couples 4Play Kit, formerly known as desert finger puppets.
“The cactus is not a cactus after all, “ I say to Mr Sanchez, who is standing behind me with a rabbit on his finger. “And that bunny apparently does things no rabbit should have to see.”
Mr Sanchez removes the rabbit from his finger.
I go on, “…and this nubby sleeve goes around–“
Mr Sanchez clears his throat. “Fancy an early night?”
And that, dear readers, is the point at which we must retire this story to the bedroom with our Fantastic Mr (Foxy) Box and close the door.
If you feel left out, you should sign up at www.foxybox.co.za for your very own box.