Jul 032018
 

Slice of rainbow pride cake necklaces on a tie-dye fabric

GAY BEACH GIRLFROND FUNTIMES SUPERBLORPS. That’s what our shared calendar said. We planned the trip on a whim: several nights at the coast, in an adorable house we found on Airbnb. A quick drive a couple hours from the city and there we were, on the beach, walking in the surf and holding hands. Squealing when the water rushed against our legs more strongly than anticipated.

Aerie had brought some new sand toys, including a hilarious sand drill, so we picked a spot and began erecting a sand city together. Sure, we could’ve stopped after a few Taj Mahals and Leaning Towers of Pisa, but we were too invested. We kept dreaming up new developments for our city, scavenging for random debris to make our visions come to life. I was brimming with childlike excitement, the surge of joy that comes from doing something creative without worrying about making it perfect.

Once our city was complete, we shot a video tour of it. It was totally off-the-cuff and utterly, beautifully ridiculous.

Back at the Airbnb that night, we brushed our teeth and spent several minutes seriously assessing how best to light the bedroom for sex. (Later we would casually mention on the Airbnb comment card that the house “could use a few dimmer lamps.”) We made out, murmured compliments to each other, and in true #Epipherie fashion, occasionally paused the action to laugh about something silly.

Every time, still, I’m amazed by their sexiness.

The Magic Wand Rechargeable takes a beach vacationWe used toys on ourselves. I rocked the Pure Wand against my G-spot and held the Magic Wand Rechargeable on my clit while Aerie did this technique they invented where they press their fingers on my mons and move in slow circles — as if polishing something with a cloth. It sort of moves my clit under the vibrator and tricks my brain into thinking Aerie’s fingers are on my clit. It feels so good I’ve told them they really need to name and trademark the move.1

In the afterglow, we cuddled and discussed the day. How the car ride along the coast felt especially meaningful. We had rolled down the windows and blasted music, and I let down my hair. We held hands on Aerie’s lap. I looked at the ocean as Aerie drove, the light reflecting on the waves, and thought about how vast it is. Aerie said, “you’re so pretty.” I replied, “you’re so pretty. And handsome.”

It felt like something you’d write in a journal.

We talked about recording memories, the importance of reflecting on life experiences. How much we miss keeping journals. For 10 years, I kept one religiously, but fell out of the habit in college. My obsessive need to capture every moment ruined me. Aerie knows the feeling; we’re a lot alike.

“I brought some books of ghost stories,” they said, “if you want me to read them to you in bed.”

It was the most perfect thing they ever could’ve said.

– – –

We spent nearly an entire day editing our dorky sand city tour video — selecting sound effects, music, and transitions, cackling with glee over our dumb jokes. Like many things, my love of video editing has been buried under my perfectionism, stifled by the demands of adulthood. Especially as a self-employed blogger who never truly goes off the clock, it can feel wrong to dedicate much time to something so inconsequential.

But that day, we made the choice to indulge in our imaginations. We made something together, something that may only be funny to us. And we both agreed: it was an afternoon very well-spent.

– – –

Aerie and I don’t have an anniversary, exactly. Our relationship didn’t follow a typical trajectory. We had sex for the first time in front of a room of friends. We visited each other in our respective cities the following spring and summer, before Aerie moved back to Portland permanently. Now, my calendar has one week in July blocked out as our anniversary — the week I spent visiting them in San Jose, cuddling and playing games and watching fireworks. Before we had words for what we were, when all we knew was a feeling: yes, this is right.

This year marks four years together.

For the first two and a half years of our relationship, I was the main person in their life. But in fall 2016, they met somebody new, and this January, they both got married and Aerie’s partner moved in with them. A few weeks ago, they celebrated the marriage with an intimate get-together and ceremony. Aerie asked me to read a poem, and I chose Barbara Ras’s “You Can’t Have it All” — with the genital reference respectfully removed, of course. Aerie was wearing an adorable necklace in the shape of a slice of rainbow cake, and we all celebrated with donuts and coffee.

Ask anyone who’s polyamorous and they’ll tell you it’s not easy. It is, in fact, a great test of your communication skills… and often a reminder of how much work you still have to do. It requires a lot of understanding and self-reflection, a commitment to honesty even when honesty hurts.

So the truth is this: I’m so, so happy that Aerie found someone else who will love and take care of them. It’s what I’ve always wished for them, and what they deserve. But seeing them traditionally paired up, saying vows — with the ring on their finger — it did feel strange. Like a small, dull ache in a tender corner of my heart.

– – –

The next day we walked the main drag, perusing the shops. In the tiny coastal town, everything was within walking distance. We held hands everywhere. At one point we came upon a bookstore… and they had notebooks. I picked one up and turned it around in my hands. The cover felt more sturdy than a shitty Office Depot notebook, the pages a little thicker. It seemed like a sign. I shoved the neurotic part of me aside — what if there’s something better out there? — and bought it.

That evening I wore my gayest dress: a rainbow-splotched floor-length thing I got in Maui. We went to a cute restaurant with outdoor tables and fancy firepits. I had wine made with pineapples.

Very first entry in my new journalAfterward I sat with Aerie on the couch at the Airbnb, writing the first entry in my new journal. I wrote about how we poked around a sketchy side-of-the-road thrift store, then made origami otters from a pack we found there. How the toilet lid made a very loud creaking sound and Aerie joked, “the toilet has an announcement to make.” How we played games and got pizza from a walk-up window. I chronicled our enthusiasm upon noticing a plastic crab lurking from the rafters, which we christened the “Crab of Shame” as an homage to the Cherub of Shame, an inside joke from a past sex blogger vacation.

I wrote about the drive, our sand city, about feeling grateful and happy. My handwriting was atrocious, my sentence structure questionable. It didn’t matter, and I loved that it didn’t matter.

I cried on the very first page, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. For the first time in a while, I realized, I was writing something by hand and only for myself. Not for clicks, for likes, for page views, for money. Merely to remember a special time with someone I love, to feel the weight of my pen marking the page. And god, it felt so good. Like it’s been far too long.

– – –

The morning we left for the coast, I piled my stuff in the back of Aerie’s car and hopped in. We started discussing where we should get coffee on the way out, which route we should take, which true crime podcast we should listen to. Unexpectedly, Aerie handed me a small box.

Inside was a necklace with a slice of rainbow cake on the end.

  1. We’re still workshopping ideas. What do y’all think of “The Shiny Shuffle™” or “Mons Agleam™”? []
Jun 152018
 
Review: Swan Wand, Mini Swan Wand + Swan Curve

When I hear the word “swan,” I think of a few things. Grace. Elegance. The color white. Bjork. Overwrought symbols of romance. Ostentatious pool floaties. And, because the folds of my brain are lined with a freakishly encyclopedic knowledge of sex toys, I think of a line of rechargeable vibrators called Swan.

Swan is not the manufacturer. The toys are actually produced by BMS Factory, a company that prefers to mysteriously hide behind the names of their various toy lines. They make the favorably-reviewed Leaf and PalmPower lines, others called Pillow Talk and Lux, and the motors in some stuff from Jopen. [. . . read the rest]

Jun 032018
 
Rainbow dildos, queer butt plugs, and gay sex toys ahoy!

Once upon a time, sex toys were either pink, purple, or a hideous shade of beige I’ve heard described as “silly putty,” “bandaid,” or “uncooked hot dog.” It was an era of churning out questionable designs in stinky toxic materials, characterized by companies’ hyper fixation on catering to the only target market they could imagine: straight, white, young, non-disabled cis women. (And a stereotypical understanding of them, at that.)

But now, decades later, any sex toy manufacturer who’s been paying attention has realized that’s a really narrow view of sex toy users. More social-justice-minded companies now market their toys based on what the products do rather than prescribing who they’re for, and the color palette has expanded considerably.  [. . . read the rest]

May 192018
 
Rock your G-spot giveaway winners!

Recently, somebody pointed out to me just how far my giveaways have come. An old giveaway from the early days of my blog fetched 30 entrants, which at the time was impressive. Now, here I am writing a wrap-up post for my most recent giveaway, Rock your G-spot, which garnered over 2,000 individual entrants. W. T. F.

Of course, this time I was giving away something much much cooler: 8 self-thrusting Stronic G toys from Fun Factory. But still, I’m forever amazed at the response, and especially the amazing artistic entries. SO MANY GOOD ONES, you guys! I’m excited to share them with you here. [. . . read the rest]

May 192018
 
The world's FIRST and only REAL G-spot toy! Ever!!!

Revolutionary! Game-changing! The best! The first! The only! Companies have been wailing such nonsense since the beginning of time. Sex toy manufacturers in particular love to employ this sort of language, although usually it’s subtle and vaguely infuriating, not in-your-face and outright laughable in its shamelessness.

But today is a beautiful day, my friends, because I’ve found something that is outright laughable in its shamelessness. Remarkably unattractive and aggressively overhyped, it is “the FIRST and ONLY true G-spot stimulator” and “the world’s first G-spot vibrator that actually works!” and as such, we must bow down to it. We might as well just trash our entire sex toy collections now and I can kiss this blog goodbye, because this toy is going to change EVERYTHING. [. . . read the rest]

May 062018
 
Review: Evi

I’m on edge, watching my every move. Like the first day on a new job. Like the feds are after me. Like a driving test. Like masturbating at age 15.

But I am not actually in a high-stress situation. I just have something in my vagina. And its name is Evi.

The Aneros Evi is a… kegel exerciser. Imagine me saying that with the same sort of hesitance in my voice as when I say “don’t worry, I can kill that spider” or “surely the Republicans can’t continue standing by him after this.” In actuality, the Evi is more defined by what it is not: it is not a butt plug (although it looks just like one), and it is not a vibrator (although it should be). [. . . read the rest]

Apr 172018
 
Giveaway: rock your G-spot!

Hey, friend, how’s your G-spot doing lately? Still real, despite what the media says? Perhaps feeling a bit drab, a little understimulated? Or is it in a good mood, but always hungry for more? Looking for a sex toy that does pretty much all the work of hitting it? I GOTCHU.

Just a few months ago, I crowned Fun Factory’s Stronic G pulsator the best sex toy of 2017. Its automated back-and-forth thrusting motion and perfectly-hooked tip are a G-spotting dream, causing me to squirt with very little effort. Now it’s 2018, a new year, and the perfect time for you to form a closer bond with your G-spot. [. . . read the rest]

Apr 152018
 
The formulating of Piph Lube

Piph Lube, with the glitter settled at the bottom, in front of my sex toy closet.

The idea, like all the best ideas, came to me while I was stoned. Lying in bed, half-asleep, it just popped into my head: my April Fool’s joke this year would be a fake lube containing ridiculous and very #me ingredients such as pinot grigio, Portland rain water, and of course, weed.

If I wanted my fake lube to seem as believable as possible, I needed some help from my favorite sex toy retailer. SheVibe, the absolute darlings, readily agreed — to design the label, to source the bottles, and to create an actual product page on their site. [. . . read the rest]

Apr 122018
 
Sex toy news: bionic dildos and a bundle of alien fingers

Yay, the Canadian cuties at Fuze have four new suction cup dildos: Flame, Major (uncut and girthy!), Freddie, and Star. They can attach to each other, too, to make a custom double-ended dildo.

Jimmyjane’s new Tre looks like a bundle of alien fingers. Isn’t that what you want to put on your clit? (Hot tip: if you want to be even poorer, buy the version that comes with a UV sanitizing case!)

Dicks that become erect at the push of a button? THE FUTURE IS NOW.

Flickering tips, y’all! The Volta is Fun Factory’s latest, and I must tell you from first-hand clitoral experience: I quite like it! [. . . read the rest]

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