Relatives and sex toys should never ever come up in the same conversation

In the infancy of my 21st year, some friends and I went to New York for our Spring Break.

I have family there who, at the time, lived on the upper west side. Super swank. And they voluntarily allowed us to stay with them. In fact they encouraged it. What were they thinking?

Each night, we'd all have dinner together and they would send the four of us out the door with subway tokens and a map.

"Have fun girls! Be back before dawn...if you feel like it."

We would scan the paper for any good bands playing and haul our gussied up selves to see them.

Naturally we had to hit CBGB's (RIP) and we also ended up at several other places I couldn't find on a map today if I tried. We made friends wherever we went and one night ended up at some dive on Avenue A smoking pot with some whacked out locals. That night I think we laid our collective heads on our pillows just as the sun woke up.

It was a fantastic time. My Aunt and Uncle took such good care of us and we all said a teary goodbye as the vacation ended.

I spoke with my Aunt when I got home and thanked her again for showing us such wonderful hospitality. She said that we forgot a few things at their apartment and she would be sending them to me shortly.

A couple weeks later the package arrived.

Someone left a shirt or something. Maybe there was a tube of mascara in there. My Aunt had also sent me a kick ass messenger bag and t-shirt she thought I would like (and she was right).

I had 7 roommates at the time. We lived in this enormous house and, believe it or not, we all had our own bedrooms. Most everyone was hanging out in the living room the day I got the package so they all watched me open it.

I was so excited about the cool shirt and new bag that I failed to notice the looks of horror and shock slowly taking over my roommates' faces.

I looked up and someone said, "So...your Aunt's pretty laid back, eh?"

"What do you mean?"

Then I looked down at the box.

And saw it.

There, resting gently in a sea of bubble wrap was an unwrapped, presumably used vibrator.

My first thought was that someone in our traveling gaggle had left it there, but who? No one fessed up.

My second and way more disturbing thought was that my Aunt sent it to me as a gift.

I didn't know which was worse: My Aunt handling my friend's vibrator or her thinking of me while cleaning out her stash (like I said, it wasn't packaged or wrapped as if it were new--it already had batteries in it!). Did she think I needed it?

I knew it wasn't mine. I would have said so right away, and I certainly wouldn't have left it at my Aunt's house. Come to think of it, I would not have brought it on (that kind of) vacation at all.

A few days later my Aunt called to make sure the package arrived, and I was terrified she would bring up the giant phallic elephant in the room.

She didn't.

I saw her two summers ago at my cousin's wedding and we email back and forth now and again. I really really want to ask her about it now that more than a decade has passed since the incident.

How exactly would one bring this type of subject up?