A delightfully self-loathing, nostalgic romp through the darkest corners of my old sex toy wishlist.
In 2007 when I started reviewing sex toys, I knew nothing about them. Oh, I knew that jelly was bad in theory, but I hadn’t yet smelled the rancid, gooey, overpowering scent that characterizes it, or felt the agonizing burning sensation that it can cause (still haven’t — insert sign of the cross here). I figured expensive toys probably had high price tags for a reason, but I was yet to be convinced to spend more than $30 on one. Oh yeah, and I’d had nary a finger in my vagina, so… I really didn’t know anything about anything.
Still, I was like a ravenous cat munching on a plate of wet food. I scoured the catalogs of online sex shops, familiarizing myself with the inventory in a way that, looking back, was merely cursory. I thought I was licking the plate clean, but because I was favoring a low price over any other factor, I was only getting a feel for the shittiest of the shit. Nonetheless, like any newly-obsessed fan, I compiled a wishlist of the sex toys I thought I wanted.
The contents of that list are shocking.
(I really hope you read that sentence in a horror movie trailer voice.)
Here, I present to you, a delightfully self-loathing, nostalgic romp through the darkest corners of my old sex toy wishlist. Perhaps this will serve as a reminder that we all start at the bottom, ignorant and stupid. Or perhaps it can be taken as deep look into my psyche, into what I am intuitively drawn to before silly things like facts and health get in the way.
If so, I fear for my soul.
This, my friends, is the first sex toy I ever bought. I’ll give you a sec to recoil in horror; I fully endorse that. I encourage it. It’s the right thing to do.
I don’t recall why I chose this toy. A sleeve that, if used “correctly,” features an upside-down penis? A sleeve with raised hearts on it that look like warts? A sleeve that is surely not body-safe? I have no memory of ever using it with that ridiculous purple sleeve on (good choice, me), so why did I want it instead of a regular silver bullet? I am an enigma even to myself.
For some reason, the Vibesicle sticks out in my mind as the quintessential thing that I really really thought I wanted before I got a fucking clue. It was one of the first sex toys that caught my attention, because look at that orange and purple one! Even now, I think it’s cute.
The best excuse I can muster is this: the translucent look of jelly — a material that nobody in this world should be subjected to, not even my enemies — transfixed me. It was visually intriguing, like a slab of Jell-o in a fanciful shape.
These days I am incapable of seeing something made of jelly and wanting it despite that. But back then — and somehow I am admitting this in public? — I was willing to overlook potentially burning genitals in favor of a vibrator resembling a popsicle. (I am deeply ashamed.)
I think it’s a rite of passage to lust after something in Doc Johnson’s Lucid Dream line. The colors are so bright, the shapes so whimsical, the name so cute, the jelly so transparent! It’s bound to reel the newbies in.
Me, I wanted the Lucid Dream #54 because it was aqua. Like, I doubt there was any other reason. But instead of getting this vibrator, I got a blog and released my love for aqua here. One should always get a blog instead of a dangerous sex toy. A++ highly recommended.
Meanwhile, California Exotic used to have (…or maybe still has, oh god) this line called Bendable Vertebrae, because that sounds appealing. I wanted the Nubby Swirl because it looked the most like a rave. Have I ever been to a rave or wanted to go to a rave? NOPE.
In the comments section of my wishlist I wrote, “for in the future, when sex doesn’t hurt anymore!” My thinly-veiled despair is almost amusing, now. Almost.
For years I hated the idea of realistic dildos, so I still don’t really get why Marco Banderas’ cock was the only one I allowed myself to want. I mean, it’s uncut, and I remember thinking it would provide a unique sensation. But IT’S HUGE; WHAT WAS I THINKING?! DID I EVEN KNOW HOW TO READ PRODUCT SPECS?
Speaking of weird cocks, I used to think it’d be great to have a huge chunk of expensive CyberSkin lying around the house for whenever I wanted to fuck a disembodied torso. I guess I had visions of a faux threesome. I guess?! I feel like that doesn’t adequately excuse it. Nothing really does. Nothing excuses disembodied torsos.
Or this. The Lady Calston Mini Anal Tongue is a disgrace. And I am a disgrace for ever wishing I owned it. Not until scouting pictures for this post did I realize that cluster at the base was LITTLE HEARTS. I am not sure if that makes it better or worse.
One of the driving forces behind my old wishlist was new experiences. Like, apparently, analingus. But considering I still haven’t even asked my boyfriend to lick my butthole, I clearly am not as enamored with the idea as I thought I was.
Like many unfortunate things I did when I started reviewing (such as referring to my vagina as my “pussy”), I added this to my wishlist because I just felt like it was something I should do. Which is never a good reason for anything, much less sex toys that look like demented human tongues.
Another thing I thought I wanted for the ~experience~ was the Eros Ejaculator, also by Lady Calston. Yes. It ejaculates. Cool. Cool story, bro. I’ve never had a creampie fetish; I just wanted to round out my collection, you know? Doesn’t everyone’s sex toy collection include an ejaculating vibrator? What? No?
And then, before I’d actually experienced anal stimulation of any kind, I jumped to the conclusion that static plugs weren’t acceptable. Like, how could that feel good?! Therefore I wanted the Back Door Rotator. Now that I’ve experienced similar rotating beads on a rabbit, I can safely say that I do not need my anus to be churned like butter.
Ah, rabbits. Back when I thought rabbits had a chance at being pleasurable, my top choices were the Sugar Spoon, Japanese G-Spot Squirmy, and Sue Johanson’s Royal Surfer. Why these in particular, I don’t really know, except that the Sugar Spoon was swirly and had a scooped head (as if that had some purpose), and it was named the Sugar Spoon, which sounded delightful.
I was getting way ahead of myself, though, because when I did try my first rabbit (a fugly Sue Johanson one), I couldn’t even insert it far enough to feel the clitoral stimulator.
I was getting even more ahead of myself, because I still haven’t found a rabbit I like at all. Really I just distrust all of them.
My judgment was so impaired that this was my idea of a good cock ring. A fucking gelatinous red bull. I actually bought it, like a tool. It proceeded to bleed all over my other toys’ cords. My boyfriend, I think, has blocked out the experience of using it. When I asked him about it, he barely looked up from his book of crosswords to state, “it did not do anything well.”
And for the grand finale, here’s a truly disturbing fact: I used to want Taffy Ticklers. I guess the true horror of these toys can only be experienced. You must live to tell, like a subject on 48 Hours Mystery. And I am here to tell you never to be lured by anything that looks like these. They are prickly, brightly-colored torture. My labia shudder at the memory.
Moral of the story: I don’t care if you’re a n00b to sex toys or are easily swayed by translucent jelly — acquire high standards as soon as humanly possible. Don’t waste your time trudging through crap. Don’t spend your hard-earned money on crap. This way you will not have shit toys lying around bleeding all over stuff, stinking up your drawers, and irritating your insides with toxins. You will have solid, dependable, body-safe toys instead, and hopefully, no recollection of a past life in which you longed for a 7-pound disembodied torso.