Good Vibrations: Sex in Zee City.

By Gwen Moore.

If a guy walked up to me and asked if I'd like to go vibrate with him next weekend, I'd probably slap him.  Well, okay, that's not totally honest.  If he were really good-looking, I'd hold off on that slap and ask him to please elaborate on that invitation.  Hey, you never know.  But if he were French, apparently he'd be asking if I'd like to watch a football match with him.  Oh that sounds like fun.  The EUFA cup starts next week and this year's French football team has come up with the curious but odd slogan "let's vibrate together!"

Ohh.  ‘Kay. 

The team that vibrates together stays together?  Or is it the fans that vibrate together stay together? 

I wonder if you're supposed to bring a vibrator to the game as you would a cigarette lighter to an Elton John concert?  I think Elton would be amused at that analogy.  In fact, I think Elton would be pretty amused if you brought a vibrator to one of his concerts and waved it in the air during Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me.

And in case you were wondering, it's called a vibromasseur in French and you can even pick one up at your neighborhood Monoprix.  Which saves on all the postage and having to come up with a fake name to give sexyavenue.com, really. 

Getting back to vibrating football matches, though.  Actually, the slogan is "On vit ensemble, on vibre ensemble", which officially translates to "Live together, celebrate together".  Pretty boring once you find out it has nothing to do with sex.  I like my translation better:  "Let's live together, let's vibrate together".  It makes the French sound as pervy as I want them to be.  Pretty direct and straightforward come-on line, dontcha think? 

I would think that celebrate would be something like célébrer.  As in on célébre ensemble.  Doesn't that make sense?  Whenever I don't know a French word, I just turn it into an -er verb and that usually works for me.   

Getting back to vibrating.  As I was saying, you can actually buy a vibrator at your local, friendly neighborhood Monoprix.  When I think of Monoprix, I generally think of a place where I can get some affordable prêt-a-porter.  In one small space, I can grab-n-go some pre-made taboulé, an emergency umbrella, and a pair of summer flip-flops.  But more than just selling fishnet black pantyhose, Monoprix has a little section graced by Durex's Play product line.  Not play as in playing football but play as in what I'd like to do in the shower with Magnum P.I.  Less flag football; more touch football.  See, who's the perv now?

They've got a line of special condoms, lubricants, and vibrators that would give my mother a heart attack (or at the very least a feigned one and then she would return without me to stock up).  Now, as some of you may remember, I'm not a huge fan of French marketing genius when it comes to toiletries.  I still refuse to buy deodorant scented like Portuguese Pomegranates or Vietnamese Litchis.  So there I was in Monoprix, trying to be as quick and under-the-radar as possible standing in front of the motion lotion trying to pick my poison when I couldn't help but read all the labels and jot down the funniest ones. 

Please, God, please don't let my boss walk in.  The section to my left sells diapers for retirees and the section to my right sells sanitary napkins.  I am already standing in front of my nearest least embarrassing option. 

Since Durex is a British company and their marketers are a bit more normal than the French ones, I didn't find too much to make fun of, but there were a few gems: 

We've all heard about English-speakers coming over here, only to find themselves in the embarrassing situation of saying something to their French host like "Oh, this strawberry jam is so flavorful and fresh!  I love how the French don't use preservatives like we Americans do!"  Only to find that their host's jaw drops to the ground as he assures the American that yes, the French do use condoms but he's not sure what that has to do with strawberries.  You see, preservative and préservatif are faux amis.  The first is a chemical used in American food and the second is a contraceptive best used in the shower with Magnum P.I. 

I'll tell you what that has to do with strawberries:  Monoprix sells strawberry-flavored condoms.  Flavorful and fresh!  And strawberry is the only good flavor there.  The box also has banana (now you're boasting!), orange (Fresh From Florida) and kiwi.  Kiwi.  Kiwi?  Who came up with that bright idea?  Anyone else think kiwi is a bit too sour? 

There are also condoms for those on either end of the egomaniacal spectrum.  The Comfort XL and the Confort XS.  I've no clue as to why one is spelled with an M and the other with an N.  Maybe it's a subconscious reminder that one letter is longer than the other.  I have to wonder, having never bought according to size, do most men reach for the Comfort XL?  To do otherwise would be humiliating at the checkout, right?  Girlfriend may not know they exist, but shelf-stocker sure does.  And when Girlfriend sees XL box, Girlfriend is impressed.  But if you look closely, you'll see that even though the XL is over 20 cm long, the measuring tape on the box proudly displays the 9-centimeter mark.  Those reared in the metric system should say to themselves, only 9 centimeters?  J'suis plus grand que ça!  And most American tourists coming in would be all hell yeah, baby, 9 inches and you know it!  The eye of the beholder. 

And the Confort XS?  I read the box.  It says it's 17.8 cm long.  Which is actually longer than the average length of a, you know . . . and so I'm not quite sure what's going on there.  Give it to the man with poor self-esteem and knock him when he's already down, I suppose.  "Yes, that's XS.  It's still too big?  Pity." 

Then there's "Performa".  The condom with performance-enhancing benzocaine.  This preservative is probably best kept in the dentist's office.  I'd rather prefer to feel what's going on during my touch-football match with Magnum.  What's funnier is the packaging.  It's got what appears to be a speedometer with the needle pointing at "50" to prove that it's powerful.  If you think 50-either in miles or kilometers-is impressive, then you must be in a Tour de France time trial.  Perhaps that's a tachometer? 

There's also "Jeans", which I suspect is France's number-one selling condom, especially among teenagers.  Why?  Because it's just so damn 80s.  I can hear Aha's Take on Me playing on the car radio in the background as the French teenager takes out his acid-wash, blue jean-inspired condoms.  Hoop earrings, some Hubba Bubba, and a sparkly Michael Jackson glove are somewhere in the scene.  Or at least that's how I remember it. 

Conversely, I'm thinking that the "Love" condom might just be France's least-popular condom.  Right, let's go make a condom and call it "love", every guy's dream.  How did love make its way into this subject?  It's got an evil little devil heart on the package, though, to make it look edgy and forbidden.  "Lust" is probably a better name. 

So getting back to football. . . I wonder if Les Bleus have a calendar.  More rugby; less firefighter?  Know what I mean? 

Hmm, I never told you about the good vibrations, did I?  Durex gets a star for making them and Monoprix gets two stars for selling them.  Now you pervs don't have to take the Metro up to Pigalle to buy the latest and greatest anymore.  You just go around the corner to sweet little innocent Monoprix.  And it's a learning experience, too: French for G-spot is Le Point-G.