Let’s be honest. Being a tech blogger really wins one over with the ladies. The minute I mention my blog, Tech Express, to them, they pine to know more about the latest Apple gadget or the wonders of the Blu-ray Disc. So for the first print issue of North by Northwestern, I only thought it right to do what all the ladies had been asking me to do since day one: a sex shop guide.

Okay, so that’s a lie. In reality, nothing could be geekier than a techie blogger tracking down the best sex gadget shops. So I got into my car, grabbed my iPhone and GPS unit, and headed for Lakeview. After driving around for about eight hours to find a parking spot, I arrived at my first destination. Taboo-Tabou bustles with couples and lone guys staring longingly at numerous “smoking products,” the store’s other specialty. A good part of the sex merchandise seems to cater to the fetish types—everything from black leather uni-suits to Dracula fangs line the walls.

The employees looked a little too busy to sit down and explain Dildos 101 to me, so I decided to do what I do best, which is eavesdrop like a pervert. The couple next to me looked at a demo of a product called the Wall Banger, a large, stiff, waterproof dildo that sticks to your shower’s walls. Good for a late-night wall fuck, I guessed. The employee explained that it would also be a good toy out of the shower, since the waterproof casing makes it easy to clean. “Do you have a favorite lube?” she questioned the two. I didn’t know I had to have a favorite lube coming into the store. I was embarrassed. Apparently, the woman didn’t have one either and proceeded try out four or five samples on her hand. At that point, I decided it was time head to the next shop.

Conveniently enough for the smart-minded dildo shopper, Belmont is full of sex shops, and Egor’s Dungeon was right next door. Walking into Egor’s is not unlike walking into a small cave – the drab, gray-walled shop is only a quarter of the size of the spacious Taboo-Tabou. As I entered, I was greeted by a tall man wearing a combination of chains, denim, and leather. I could see this was going to be my store.

After realizing I was the only one there, I thought Mr. Denim-and-Leather could answer a few of my questions. When I asked what his best-selling product is, he quickly pulled out a giant apparatus called “The Rabbit.” If you haven’t heard of this dildo, you’re apparently in the minority, according to Mr. Denim-and-Leather. When he turned the contraption on, the head vibrated and moved in a circular fashion while tiny “pearls” in the shaft grinded together.

“This thing makes sure you hit all the G-spots,” he said. He then pointed to two, small, rabbit-like ears near the base of the device. “They vibrate and massage the clit. Yeah, it’s kind of like the day spa of dildos.”

At that moment, another man walked in the store. Not wanting to be rude, I told him to assist the other customers if he needed to.

“Can I help you out with anything, sir?” Mr. Denim-and-Leather inquired.

“Yeah,” the man replied, “I’m looking for something called inter-species porn.”

“Oh, like a man fucking a horse?”

“Yeah, actually, but maybe the other way around.”

“A horse fucking a man?”

“Yes, but more like a—”

“How-to video? How to get a horse to fuck you?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Yeah, we got that.”

The whole time I tried to hold back laughter. Maybe this was a normal occurrence? But when I looked up, I realized I’d been had. The two were just playing a game with me. I thanked them for their time and, with the fresh image of a horse mounting a man in my mind, moved on.

I needed to get out of the Lakeview area. I drove up Sheridan Road where I arrived at Early to Bed. From the outside, I could see youngsters mistaking it for a popular mattress store. The windows are painted in blues and whites with a giant mattress pad as the centerpiece. Nothing kinky – just a mattress. But when you walk inside, the walls are completely covered with dildos and toys. It’s like a hands-on version of the Museum of Sex: everything is out of the box and ready to play with. The store had a fair number of browsers, but I sensed something different about this place – something homey. The toys inside were actually cute. They’re something you might want your three-year-old to cuddle up with as you read them Goodnight Moon. Toys were given titles like “I Rub My Ducky” and the “Big Buddy Kit,” which promised “any kind of awesome ass play.” The dildos even had names – “Frank,” “Blue,” “Billie” and “Silkey” – that sounded like childhood playmates. One customer looked at a clit vibrator that was shaped like a cute, little rabbit. “I don’t know,” she remarked, “it’s too much like something to put on the floor and watch your cat chase.”

After grabbing some food and heading home, I realized I’d been moved that day by the Chicago sex scene. No, it wasn’t because this was the first time I had visited a store that wasn’t Circuit City or Best Buy; it was something else. Sex shops were no longer places for laughs and giggles, but places for legitimate respect. And hey, if I ever want to find “How to Fuck a Horse” videos, I won’t need my iPhone with its built-in Google Maps. I’ll just know where to go.