Bring on the Dildos, It's a Passion Party!

Did anyone ever tell you, "Be careful what you wish for?" Apparently, I wasn't paying attention on the day that helpful phrase was issued, and I must have wished for some excitement to liven up my staid summer.

Yep. I'm stupid. Hang on for this one...

Last night, I was out walking with a neighbor (I'll call her Ms. Mini, 'cuz she's very tiny). Purely for exercise purposes, we meet a few times a week to power walk in the evening when the temperatures are down and all the kids are put to bed. I'm not palsie-walsies with this woman, we're just walking together for motivation and night-time safety. Usually, there is a third woman who walks with us (the two of them are good friends), but she's on vacation.

We finish up a 3-mile walk in record time and are stretching out at the end of my driveway. Ms. Mini is chatting about how excited she is that her husband is coming home soon from Iraq, along with several other husbands on our street who have been gone for over 1 year. I'm smiling and nodding and thinking about how I'd really like to get inside away from the mosquitoes and have a shower. Suddenly, her voice hushes down and she whispers,

"And so we're having a PASSION PARTY in two weeks-- you should come! I'll be sure to email you an invitation." She smiles. "We're all going to drink a lot of wine and look at the salesgirl's products. I'm sure everyone will buy something."

For those of you not in the know, a 'Passion Party' is a polite euphamism for a party where sex toys are sold and demonstrated (not on people, usually using cucumbers or other phallic veggies). They're becoming very popular in the Desperate Housewives neighborhoods. It's supposed to be a cutsie way of stocking up on your dildos, vibrators, cuffs, and lubricants. Door prizes are often included.

At this point in the conversation, I'm REALLY wishing that'd I'd just gone inside. I really don't find the thought of shopping for sex toys with a bunch of sex-starved neighbors pleasant. I can make a guess (based on who Ms. Mini hangs out with) as to who will be at the party, and none of them needs to know a damn thing about my bedroom hardware. FOR GOD'S SAKES! (Sorry. I just had an 'outrage moment'.)

Here's how I forsee the party going: all the women get very drunk on mixed drinks, complain about their husbands' deployment, the Sex Salesgirl shows up with her briefcase of tawdry toys, and then there will be hours of drunken giggling and posing with cheap leatherware and banana-huggers. FORGET IT! If I want a whip, I'll buy it myself and have it mailed to me. IN PRIVATE. I don't need the damn door prize, either!

Have you heard of these parties, or am I the only one unlucky enough to get an invite? How on earth am I going to get out of going to this? I don't want to end up seeming like a prude. I guess it doesn't matter much, right? They're not my pals anyway. How do I get involved in messes like this?

Any suggestions about how to get out of this...sticky situation? HELP!