The Android's Guide to Back Massagers

This post might get messy, but life does that.
Avoid at all costs.

My soon-to-be-ex-wife Angela is a sex therapist. This has always brought a great source of comedy into my life, and at times a lot of awkwardness. A few months back, Angela and I were discussing what gift to give her sister for her bridal shower.

“You should get her a sex toy,” I told her. “They are getting married. They might need one.”

“I can’t,” she said. “It’s my sister! It’s being thrown by her church.”

“So what?” I said. “You’re a marriage therapist and a sex therapist. People expect you to give her one.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said.

I let out a sigh of ecstasy at having heard my favorite sentence. Oh, it’s the best sentence ever. “You know I love hearing that.”

“You're so stupid. But it is a bridal shower,” she continued. “I guess you’re supposed to give that kind of gift.”

It took a few hours to ferment. All great ideas must fester at the front of the cerebral cortex, growing like a cancer, like a tumor, pulsing, until the idea finally forms.



“Oh, my god,” I said later that evening. I looked up from the keyboard with a smile. “You should totally buy her a vibrator and tape a piece of paper to the front of the box to cover it. Then write ‘BACK MASSAGER’ on it. It will be very discreet.”

Angela knew exactly what to do. Later that week, she brought home a Trojan branded personal massager from Wal-Mart and I helped her tape the note on the box, writing the letters out myself. The Trojan branding made it very clear what this tool was used for. Here’s a hint: It does not massage your back.

Now, I did not attend the bridal shower, as it is one of the few wedding events I get to opt out of, but I was told it went over well when her sister unwrapped the gift.

“Oh, it’s a back massager,” she said.

“It’s not a back massager,” Angela said, deadpan.

“But it says right here…” Her sister pointed to the box.

“Josh wrote that…”

It took her a few seconds to catch on, but oh how I wish I could have been there for those few seconds. As it dawned on her what she held, her face turned beet red and the room full of her friends and family cracked up laughing.

A twelve year old girl had apparently attended the bridal shower with her mother spoke up. “What’s so funny about a back massager? Mom, what is it?”

“Never mind,” her mother said.

I'm sure that was an interesting ride home.

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