Feelin’ The Vibe

Forewarning: this post might make those that know me personally race to find brain bleach, but you know what? That’s okay.

P.S. I’m immature. I will make many double entendres.

I was gifted a vibrator (don’t worry–it wasn’t used and came (ha!) new-in-box (double ha!)). It’s eight inches of pink silicone and at first, I was just going to let it sit on top of my television and freak out my conservative male roommate because really, it has already made itself useful by doing that.

But the more I looked at it, the more I thought, “don’t let a good vibe go to waste!” so I found some batteries, popped those babies in and away we go.

Now, here is where I make a startling confession: I have never used a sex toy in my life. Ever. I’m kind of squeamish when it comes to my vagina; let others do their thing (ha!!) to it, but when it comes to me taking matters in my own hands, I get nervous. Plus, truth be told, I never had a vibrator before because I knew that having one would have made my ex-husband feel… inadequate and I didn’t want to do that to the poor fellow as we had enough issues in the bedroom to begin with.

Anyway, I stared at it for a bit before using it. It’s actually rather comical how anatomically correct this thing is: the base is ridged and kind of resembles a single testicle…I guess? I’m not really sure what the manufacturers were going for on that, but whatever. The features that cracked me up the most were some big, throbbing veins and a pee hole. Yes–that’s right–I said it was anatomically correct. And thank goodness this vibrator appears  circumcised because that would have been an awkward conversation to have with it.

Here’s a picture:

Bonus features include controllable vibrations, which I rate from “left my cell phone on vibrate in my pocket” to “jamming a jack hammer between my legs.” I do not use it on that setting because I’m afraid my fillings will fall out.

I digress.

Have you ever seen the movie “The Forty-Year-Old Virgin” and the scene where Paul Rudd gives Steve Carrell’s character the big box o’ porn and he tries to watch one of the tapes and masturbate to it? The awkwardness of someone who has never used the aid of sexual stimulants to help them is kind of what I was going through. “I’m supposed to put that where?!” My inexperience would be cute if I weren’t thirty-years-old…instead, it’s just sad.

Don’t get me wrong–I’ve masturbated plenty of times in my life (sorry, Mom…), but have never used anything other my imagination and my right hand to do so. Introducing a product specifically designed to help get my jollies off is intimidating, I’ll admit. I felt kind of wrong for using it and that brings up this whole other topic which I will briefly discuss now.

I was raised in a Christian household (I love how I can tie in masturbating  and religion in one post) and attended a parochial school and of course, the only thing that was ever taught about sex was “Premarital sex is a sin against God and you are a sinner if you even think about having sex before you’re happily betrothed to a man and don’t even get us started about masturbation because that is sex with yourself and that is also a sin because sex is between two married people. Be abstinate or burn in Hell.”

I specifically remember the day in fifth grade when we had to travel to the public school for a sex education class. Talk about awkward. I was eleven years old and the only time I had ever heard sex mention in our house was the time my Dad was watching “Basic Instinct” on cable and he told me to leave the room. Sex was not something my family discussed. EVER. I led a very sheltered youth.

I’m sitting in a classroom with about twenty other girl classmates and we’re watching this horribly done sex education video, then, the elderly school nurse demonstrated putting a condom on a plastic model of a penis. I remember turning to my best friend at the time, my eyes huge and wide with disbelief and we started giggling. As we left, we were given a cardboard box with pamphlets and a tampon–A TAMPON– in it, which I promptly threw away when I got home, making sure to bury it deep in the trashcan, lest my older brother were to find it and shame me mercilessly. And you know, to this day, I have a weird phobia about using tampons. Thanks, Christian school!

And this the problem here: sex is not anything to be ashamed of or scared of, which I admit, I was both when I first had it. I kept thinking “oh my god, what if my parents find out I’m having sex? God is going to be furious I didn’t save myself for marriage!” But you know what? I didn’t burst into flames when I had pre-marital sex with my boyfriend, nor did I spontaneously combust the hundreds of other times we had sex before we were married, either.

Making sex a scary thing is dangerous. Teaching sex education properly, and by that I mean telling those who are ready to be active that they won’t burn in eternal damnation for eternity for having sex or for masturbating. Teaching–nay, drilling– into  young adults heads to use a condom and birth control before having sex, for Pete’s sake is the key here.

I’m not advocating teenagers have sex, because their brains aren’t fully developed to grasp the concept of what having sex at 13/14/15 means to them, but just teach them to have some fucking smarts about sex.

Getting back to me and my masturbatory tale: I was going to masturbate and not just any ol’ masturbate–masturbate with a sex toy, no less. I’ll spare you the details, but I will say that it was toe-curlingly good, and dare I say receiving the vibrator is probably the best gift ever.

A cautionary warning, though: be sure you don’t have a dog who thinks that this new toy is for them and for god’s sake–ladies, wash that shit afterwards. There’s special sex toy cleaner out there. Buy it, unless having a urinary tract infection is fun to you.

So there you have it. My tale of sex toys and carnal pleasures. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to uh…fuck it, I need to masturbate.

Laters!

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