This clit toy lets users create their own vibration patterns, but I’m bothered by how much it buzzes my hand.
I have now formed a conditioned response whenever I hover over a link and see the URL indiegogo.com. It’s a mixture of terror, disgust, and exasperation, which, upon clicking, either bubbles into rage or fizzles into mild interest, depending on the product advertised.
Are we going to have to crowdfund all our vibrators now? Goddamn.
“No cumbersome speed settings” — OH, OKAY.
Is there some sort of rule that if you have a crowdfunding campaign for a vibrator, you must show it in a glass of water?
Then I found out it was only coming in pink and teal, and despite my intense love for teal, I was like “really bitch?” It’s SO OBVIOUS it should’ve come in yellow and green. But fine, only go halfway on the lemon thing. Fine then.
Silly color choices aside, I’m always open to a new rechargeable clitoral vibrator. I liked Minna’s previous toy, the Ola, so I wanted to give the Limon a spin. It had to be at least sort of good, right?
But that is the problem. It’s only sort of good.
The Limon comes in a well-designed tube and includes a cute-ass storage pouch. It charges like all lemons do: standing proudly atop its magnetic USB charging dock. The toy actually lights up with the word “Minna” when sitting there — a clever way to include branding without ruining the smooth surface of the toy.1 The battery life on this puppy is incredible; I’ve barely had to charge it. Plus it warns me when the battery is low.
Like the Ola and kGoal, the Limon is pressure-sensitive, so it vibrates more strongly the harder you squeeze its sides. 30 seconds into using it that way, I’m over the novelty. So instead I just program what I want. Which is fine… except it takes two hands to create a pattern, and the Limon is a slippery, lube-coated mofo.
This is reason #1 that I can’t love the Minna Limon: it’s too small and unruly for me.
I adore the shape, mind you — it pinpoints my clit while resonating my labia. And it’s comfortable enough to hold, but… it never lets me forget I am using a vibrator. Never. Its rotund shape and rumbly vibrations make it wiggle and writhe and try to escape my grasp. I have a theory about little clitoral vibrators like the Limon: their puny size means I get a lot of vibration in my hand, which makes it feel less stimulating because my focus is divided between my hand and my clit.
Reason #2 is that the Limon really doesn’t have much range of vibration intensity. It sounds like it should, with the squeeze technology. But, all told, there are only about four discernible intensities… and I end up wanting the highest. The Limon is good for my first orgasm, when I’ve just escaped the snow, before I’ve become fatigued by holding something wriggly. But soon enough, itchy fingertips and the lack of vibration range conspire against me.
The Minna Limon is not a bad toy. Not at all. It’s silicone, rechargeable, well-made, innovative, and unique. It’s stronger and rumblier than a lot of its competitors.2 For those less picky and jaded, or those who have different needs than me, it could be the ticket. If you covet the ability to create your own vibration pattern, and you don’t want a toy with a handle like the Ola, you’ll want the Limon. But if you just want a really good vibrator? The Mona 2 is stronger and doesn’t vibrate your fingers off.
One night I was hanging out with my friend JoEllen, and she off-handedly mentioned that her Limon rolled under her couch and she didn’t realize it was gone until a month later, and I think I screamed loudly in agreement. Because that’s exactly the Limon. It rolls under your couch and you never miss it. You find it and are marginally pleased — for a moment, you plan to use it in your next masturbation session. But when that session comes around, you forget it anew.
Some complain that it’s too bright, like a night light, but I never charge my toys in places where they’ll disrupt my sleep cycle.