Worthy of my toys

I've noticed that I do most of my purchasing of more expensive sex toys, or more expensive batches of sex toys, when it's either very late at night, or when I'm under the influence of a small amount of alcohol or my pain medication. My guard goes down, and I shell out the money for those playthings I've been lusting after.

I have never regretted a single one of those purchases. They were always within my budget. They were all things I wanted to buy. Most of them were purchases I'd thought about long and hard. But without that little extra push, I'd never have bought most of them. After my most recent such purchase, I think I may have finally realized why.

I don't think I deserve them.


Deep down, I really don't think I deserve such wonderful toys. And they are wonderful. All but a few have been toys I still love. Yet a large part of me wonders why the heck I'm spending such money on sex toys, when I can get off on a cheap bullet, when I can get off with just my hands. I think I deserve them, but I don't really believe it.

I thought that after years of struggling, years of living in the light of the love of a man who knows my faults and still loves me, who has taught me that I am worth something, that I had taken this to heart. I thought that I believed that I was worth spoiling, worth splurging on when I could afford to do so.

If I had the income, I would probably go buy myself a bunch of the high-end toys I've been lusting after, to prove to myself that I believe I deserve them. Ceramic and steel and glass dildos, Lelo and JimmyJane and Tantus and Fun Factory vibrators, a Liberator throe, a harness that doesn't make my lower back ache.

But it's 1am. My pain medications are kicking in. I've had a glass of wine. So that toy-binge would be just like any other.

I'm getting the Gigi anyway. I just don't have the spine to do it in the light of day.