Dear family members who might be reading this, this is an article about sex toys. In a few years I might be more like a Nora Ephron, and you can feel proud and brag to your board of executive friends about me or whatever (probably not), but right now I’m more of a Lena Dunham, except I expose all of my dirty laundry for free mostly, and while much of the world has seen my breasts, it hasn’t been for the sake of the art. Right now, you don’t know quite what to say when asked about me and what I’m up to with my life, except that I’m “edgy” and “exploring my authentic side” and “discovering what it means to really be a woman.” And this article certainly won’t help that. Before I start rambling about how parents just don’t understand me, my point is just that you should probably stop reading this. Like now. Trust me, it’s for your own benefit. And now on to the fun stuff.
Dear readers, do you struggle with the idea that a man wearing a vibrating cock ring could somehow be sexy? Does the mere thought of it make you shutter and cringe and have nightmares of being trapped in an Austin Powers-themed-sex dungeon where everything is pink and furry? You’re in good company. Most of my sexual life I’ve had an unjustified aversion to sex toys. Dildos, especially. Both the flesh-tone ones with human-like ridges, and the translucent-glittery-blue-
Not to sound redundant, but adult toys, specifically the kind with batteries that need to be charged and re-charged and fizzle out and go all lifeless just when they’ve got you all worked up, have always kind of repelled/intimidated me. I’ve heard horror stories that overuse of vibrators can desensitize the clitoris. I’ve met (and slept with) girls who couldn’t get off unless they were using some big purple battery-operated-tree-stump of a thing.
While I maintain no judgment about people who prefer to stick foreign objects in and around their bits, personally, I just find toys kind of expensive and complicated and sterile and goofy and giant-jelly-bean-ish, and like they detract from human connection and skin-on-skin contact even more than all of the existing technology already does. I mean, are people even having sex anymore, or are they just snap-chatting?
ANYWAYZ. As far as solo masturbation and sex with a partner, I’ve always fancied myself a sexual minimalist. This means that my vagina enjoys the films of Robert Bresson, and architecture that is clean and linear and reductive. Just kidding. She’s more of a Mid-Century kind of girl. Kidding again. But it does mean I like to eliminate all non-essential elements in the bedroom, and that I subscribe to the traditional school of thought that making oneself and one’s lover climax with tongues, toes, armpits, penises, vaginas, hands, and fingers, just so long as it doesn’t run on batteries, is the most seductive and arousing thing. Reliance on external devices has always felt like an intrusion—an admission of our own human inadequacy—a betrayal of the gifts the good lord gave us (not that I’m religious), until I found myself in a three-year relationship, and started to become more curious about new, playful, and adventurous ways to keep long-term lovers entertained and stimulated, with pretty things such as lingerie. (Oh, and also I started to write this blog, and figured I it best to keep up with the latest trends in kink and erotica).
Now, I’m not against all inanimate bedroom visitors, just the ones that run on triple a’s and vibrate with such rigor it feels a little like an earthquake aftershock between your legs, and not in a good way. I’m not even denying that I have, at least a handful of times, enjoyed the experience of fooling around with one of those funny-looking-pink-gadgets-vaguely-shaped-like-a-rabbit, but most of the time I feel they get in the way and cause me to act like a clumsy amateur and I really just want to expel them from the scenario after only a few minutes. And nobody likes to feel like an amateur. Especially not a sex writer. Which is why I ask you now, my lovely readers, for your assistance and uncensored opinions. What are your thoughts on adult toys? Do you love them? Hate them? What brands are you using? Do you brave the stores or shop online from the erotic paradise that is Adam and Eve? How do you know which kinds are right for you? How do you get over the whole glow-in-the-dark-cartoonish-thing? Are you partaking alone or in conjunction with a partner? And perhaps most importantly, what am I doing wrong, and do you want to come over and show me how to use it? Because I don’t understand the diagram or the instructions, and it doesn’t seem to be working its magic on me. Just kidding. I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much. The End.