Most of my summer was spent in the throes of buying a house, an experience that was completely new to me. As a person who earns most of their income through nefarious and elusive internet means, as well as a person who masturbates frequently and more peculiarly than most, I had some… unique considerations as a home buyer.
My sex blogging played an interesting role not only in income verification and loan approval, but also in house hunting and logistically moving my 400+ sex toys safely from point A to point B. Here’s what I learned along the way.
- Those spreadsheets and ridiculous taxes paid off. For years I’ve been documenting my blog’s affiliate commissions and ad payments in spreadsheets, plus forking over exorbitant amounts of cash in taxes each year as a self-employed person. Finally, I was able to use both as proof of my income, and it meant being able to get a better loan. After every little mobile check deposit was scrutinized, all the money I’ve made in the past two years with this blog was deemed legitimate, and I proved that I am a human capable of making monthly mortgage payments despite sticking things in my vag for a living. It felt good.
- Hide nothing from the mortgage people and realtors. My (female, tattooed, hell yes) realtors quickly became accustomed to me talking about where I would put my toys in particular houses, and they understood the importance of finding the right office for me. My mortgage guy chuckled while lamenting that it was hard for him to verify my work because my site was blocked at his office. The whole process would have been a lot more stressful if I was trying to shield the nature of my job from everyone.
- Don’t rush, and be firm about what you need, versus what you can compromise on. Although it can be hard, patience is key. There were features I wanted in a house — two bathrooms, a quiet street without neighbors looming from every angle, a finished basement — that I almost gave up on. Because I didn’t, I can now poop in peace, take photos of my sex toys outdoors without neighbors creepin’, and I have a fucking finished basement. In exchange, the house is smaller than I’d hoped for. The trade off was worth it.
- Downsize the things that don’t matter; upsize the things that do. I gave away so much junk by setting it on the curb at my old apartment, and although I felt momentarily strange about not trying to sell any of it, it was so nice for it to just disappear. Meanwhile, my office is no longer a corner of the living room but ITS OWN ROOM, and I’ve vowed to keep my desk more minimal now. Spaces feel so much different when they’re not piled high with clutter.
- Holy shit, I own a lot of sex toys (and their accoutrements). No joke, I found empty LELO boxes in every room of my apartment. Throes covered in cat hair were everywhere. I discovered a thigh harness that I have no idea how I acquired. Hoisting everything to my car, I remembered that Sybians weigh a lot and Liberator shapes take up a lot of space — but at least they come with carrying handles.
- It is a worldwide travesty that we don’t have better ways get rid of adult items. I have so much stuff that probably nobody wants, but I refuse to just throw it away. Well, most of the time. After much scheming about making an epic Instagram video of death for the Rock Box, I ended up unceremoniously placing it in a dumpster. I’m not ashamed. Fuck that thing.
- Hiring movers is the best $500 I’ve ever spent, but I’m glad I didn’t trust them with my sex toys. The guys were swift and efficient… but almost disconcertingly so. After signing that waiver, I was not about to let them handle my precious collection. I have many discontinued sex toys that could never be replaced if broken or lost. So I moved the toys in myself prior to the big moving day.
- My parents helped, too — which normalized my work even more. A funny moment was when we needed AA batteries for the doorbell. My dad thought for sure I’d have some because of my toys. “Most of my vibrators are rechargeable,” I told him. He exclaimed, “no kidding!”
- Let change happen. I had a lot of anxiety over where certain objects would go in the new house, and it was unnecessary. When you move, things will go in different locations, and that will be okay (not just okay — it will be exciting to decide!). My sex toys are mostly in a single closet, now — although I do plan to eventually find a sweet display case — and having them out of my line of sight when I’m at my desk was a good decision.
- A room of one’s own is a real thing. I had no idea how much I would relish locking cats out of my office. Or not hearing my boyfriend making dinner right next to me. Or how much I would freak the fuck out over a measly closet. But having an office — with a door! — has been life-changing. I can even lock the door when jacking off. INCREDIBLE.
- But maybe get window coverings for the sex blogging office first. I bought blinds for the other rooms, but because I want fun curtains in my office, those windows remained bare. One of my office windows looks out onto a street which leads to an elementary school, so I felt a wee bit uncomfortable opening porn at 3 pm on a weekday without shades. I eventually caved and bought temporary blinds.
- Thank gawd for the Hitachi. We did some serious bonding in the weeks and months surrounding the move. Being able to have an orgasm within 5 minutes and without removing one’s pants? Truly a miracle.
- The pride I feel for my blog and toy collection as been (momentarily?) replaced by the pride I feel for this home. Being an apartment renter for 7 years, I became very complacent. The place was cramped, people rarely came over, the apartment company didn’t want to fix anything, and it wasn’t truly mine. Having plopped down $50,000 on this house probably helped, but I just want everything to be nice. We painted almost every room before moving in, and one afternoon I found myself on my knees on the floor, scraping dried paint off the hardwoods with a butter knife. I hope this sense of pride lasts.
- Moving into a house with street views does not stop me from walking around naked. I blame my mother.
- At the end of the day, it’s the little things. It’s moving my sex toys in first. The ability to close the door of my office. Turning my music up at night. Hearing crickets instead of street noise. Sitting quietly on my porch. And, of course, marking my territory once and for all — by squirting all over my office floor.
Toys pictured in first photo (starting at top, moving clockwise-ish):
Fun Factory Tiger, Pipedream Ceramix No. 4, Pleasure Works Maven, Tantus Rocket,
LELO Mona 2, Fun Factory Boosty, LELO Luna Beads, and njoy Pure Wand.