The best summer of my life was spent working at The Pink Pussycat, a legendary sex shop in NYC's West Village. It was, without a doubt, the most educational (and entertaining!) vocational experience of my life. Talking to people freely, openly, and without judgment about sex was incredibly refreshing, and providing both education and products to enhance their sexual experiences was rewarding as hell. Fuck soup kitchens - slinging dildos is the ultimate community service.

Unfortunately, not everybody thinks this way. The misconceptions about sex shops are numerous, and the people working to dispel them are few. Many still see sex stores as dark, damp, hole-in-the-wall caverns that cater to the trenchcoat wearing perv crew. Think about it: how many smut shops have you seen in your lifetime? How many thousands of products litter their shelves? Nobody's making this shit out of the kindness of their hearts - we're Americans, damn it, and we like money. Lonely nerd virgins and creepy lurkers are not keeping these establishments in business. The sex toy and porno industry is thriving thanks to every day folk like you and me. As it turns out, a lot of folks really, really like having orgasms, and will pursue this pleasure with great conviction. People of all walks of life stream through the doors of all kinds of sex shops for all sorts of reasons - yes, including your parents. Hell, even your grandparents are getting in on the silicone n' latex, battery-powered action. I promise.

A slim majority of my customers were women, but plenty of men stopped by as well. I helped lesbian couples, I helped straight couples, I helped gay couples. I helped singles, married folks, and swingers. There were Atheists, Christians, Buddhists, Jews, Muslims, and Wiccans, black folk, brown folk, white folk, every color folk. I helped people that paid with coins dug out of their couch and people that paid with black AmEx cards. I helped virgins and I helped whores. I helped teenagers, I helped 20-somethings, I helped 80-somethings. I helped teachers, priests, strippers, professionals, artists, students, blue-collars, white-collars, and freelancers. If you're looking for diversity, check your local smut shop. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is getting it on, and in filthier and more creative ways than you could ever dream of.

Two 70-year old Jewish women stopped by the shop after synagogue, purchased The Rabbit, and spent 10 minutes devising ways to hide their toys from their husbands. I had a young, Asian woman charge through the door, throw her purse on the counter, and breathlessly exclaim "I'm 32 and I've never had an orgasm! Help me!" I sold a very large and lifelike dildo to an older gentleman who was concerned that his lack of erectile abilities was frustrating his wife, and he wanted to find something that could help him please her again. Two Southern women tiptoed in with their husbands, clinging to one another like the dongs were going to jump up and start biting at their ankles. They tentatively pointed at the first thing they saw, asked what it did, and I barely had time to say "oh, that vibrates on your clit." before they collapsed into giggles and bolted out the door. I sold some very large butt plugs to one of the most straight-laced, homophobic, Wall Street suits I've ever seen. I had women enter the shop convinced that just being there made them a freak, and after hours of gentle conversation, emerged with a bag of toys, excited and empowered.

I love sex shops not only for their ability to release the nasty in anybody, but also for their inherent and unabashed cheesiness. How threatened can you feel when you're surrounded by pink feathers, twinkly lights, glitter, fake wood paneling, flashing neon, and bad pop music? Sex shops are the class clown of retail: lighthearted, entertaining, and they don't take themselves too seriously. They're an escape from a bleak world where sex is only acceptable if it's being used to objectify women for the purpose of hawking cars and beer - a place where sex is fun, fabulous, and accepted, hell, encouraged. Strangers bond over the sheer humanness of discussing their sexual proclivities with each other, without fear of judgment or ridicule. As a lover of sex and a hater of hang-ups, nothing made me happier than watching a customer, previously timid, quiet, and embarrassed, realize that wanting to explore his or her sexuality is a really healthy, normal, and good thing. The visible relief that people experience when they stop feeling guilty about sex is inspiring.

As with anything, there are obvious bad sides to the good ol' American institution of smut peddling. Many stores aren't exactly welcoming places for women and/or LGBT folk to explore their sexuality. Racks of misogynist, borderline-violent pornography, and rubber replicas of dismembered female body parts, not to mention the scads of leering, shady dudes, don't exactly foster feelings of comfort for the average lady or queer customer. And unfortunately, the few "woman-friendly" sex shops that have existed in the past historically involve little else besides lame-ass romantic shit like feathers and silk scarves and "love coupons," suggesting that backrubs and candles are the key to sexual fulfillment. You know, because chicks don't really like actual, down-n-dirty, hardcore fucking, right? Apparently girls will only suck dick if it's dipped in chocolate body paint. Please.

Luckily, whip smart broads all over the country are realizing this, and we now have scores of fabulous sex shops - real sex shops, with vibes and dildos and butt plugs and whips - that cater to those of us that aren't chauvinistic heterosexual men. Feminist sex stores are popping up all over the country, from Babeland (www.babeland.com) to Good Vibrations (www.goodvibes.com), from San Francisco to New York and everywhere in between. Most also have retail websites, so if you're a little shy or unlucky enough to live in a red state, you still have the vast world of rubber, silicone, and batteries at your fingertips. Feminist sex shops keep it real, raw, and best of all, empowering. Many host workshops where you can learn a myriad of sexual skills, from blowjobs to eating pussy, from masturbation to S&M, and the staff is always knowledgeable, friendly, and eager to help you fulfill your sexual destiny. And can I just say: it's about fucking time.

So whether they know you by name at your local Dildos-R-Us, or you've never even peeped the window of a sex store, let's all appreciate the public service that sex shops provide us with. While we're at it, a moment of silence, please, for our friends in Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Texas, where selling and purchasing sex toys is illegal, yes illegal (but guns are totally chills). Supplying the world with earth-shattering orgasms and a healthy attitude about fucking, especially at a time when most of our leaders are trying to figure out ways to eradicate every last speck of sexual freedom, is no small feat. So the next time you pass by a sex store, take a minute to pop in and say thanks, will ya? Even better, buy something, take it straight home, and come so hard your neighbors complain. After all, nothing pleases us smut peddlers (and pisses off conservatives) more than people experiencing guilt-free sexual fulfillment.

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