Why wouldn’t you want this smug bastard smiling at you while you masturbate? He looks like the kind of guy who works in sales. Or no, tech. But he’s a team-building captain or some bullshit, so he thinks he’s above everyone else — they’re all nerdy losers. Used to wear baseball hats religiously, but ditched them in his thirties in favor of hair gel. Wears his suit jacket from work to the party, where he gets riled up about separating the art from the artist and gesticulates so hard he nearly spills his craft beer. His laugh is the kind that pierces the air suddenly, startling everyone in the room. He refers to sex as “getting tail.” Unironically. Oh wait, . . . read more

Me, masturbating: uh, don’t mind me, I’m just over here jamming this ugly-ass hairbrush-lookin’ thing against my vulva in a feeble attempt to orgasm. And I’m failing, friends. I’m failing and I’m angry. Me, writing: my fingers tingle with impending rage as I hover over the keyboard. I’m looking for a word. Like “disappointing” only meaner. Like “frustrating” but 100 times worse. Abhorrent? Heinous? Exasperating? Disgraceful? Language can’t fail me now, not when so much is at stake. Not when there’s still a possibility that some human on earth might buy the Queen Bee. The Queen Bee is the first vulva-specific vibrator made by Hot Octopuss, a company known for trying to make the word “Guybrator” happen penis toys such as the Pulse. Their products . . . read more

You’re mid-masturbation and you’ve forgotten what it’s like for orgasm to feel achievable. You’re doing everything right, theoretically: the vibrator’s cranked up to its highest intensity, held faithfully against the favored side of your clit. You’re watching queer porn. Your vulva is well-lubricated. The cats are at bay. There is no reason this should be unpleasant. Except that the vibrator you’re using is absolute shit. Does it even qualify as a vibrator, really? These “vibrations” are pathetic and so, so buzzy. It’d be laughable if it wasn’t so sad. Actually, the emotion you feel is irritation — and it’s tainting everything. You become inordinately annoyed at the porn for daring to jump between sex and interviews; you need all the eroticism you can . . . read more

Dildo Diaries (2002) and the Downunder Toys Hot Banana Rod. Buying a sex toy is a snap these days. Simply type “adult shop” into your Yelp app, or enter the product name into Google, and in mere seconds you can find a place to purchase the dildo or vibrator of your desires. We take this for granted. I take it for granted. But as recently as 9 years ago, it wasn’t that easy — especially in the South. Dildo Diaries (2002) is a documentary chronicling the absurdity of Texas’ anti-sex toy legislation. Directed by Laura Barton and Judy Wilder, it’s a joyous defense of our right to purchase and use sex toys. It’s also an invaluable historical artifact, a reminder that in . . . read more

Day by day, second by second, time is destroying your vulva. Your labia are deflating like a sad soufflé. Your vagina is drying up. The color is draining from your genital region. Your husband is weeping. Your dinner is burning. Your life is a farce. Enter the Lowe Aurora, a sex toy providing “low-level laser treatment” for your genitals. For your “health.” Of course. More like a massive laser pointer created solely to make you feel bad about your vulva. It’s like someone thought to themselves, how can we combine crushing beauty standards and sex toys? The female genitals are subject to the passage of time like the rest of the body. The labia loses its turgidity due to reduced elasticity and the colour . . . read more

Whatever could be so offensive about vibrators that look this boring? FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. — BlissMe founder Daniel Mederos says his new sex toy business concept is a bit different from others because the company doesn’t just market a product, it provides a service as well. “At BlissMe Vibrators we wanted to encompass the idea of infidelity being an option through our vibrators,” Mederos said. “So what we have created is a service where consumers buy our products and we provide them with an e-mail from our list of vibrators since each of our five vibrators have personalities.” Those personalities include Mr. Right, Mr. CEO, Mr. Badboy, Mr. U.K. and Mr. Cowboy. Yes, how did earth keep spinning before someone . . . read more

[This toy really is the worst, but this is mostly an April Fool’s joke.] In the past month, I’ve lost the ability to form full sentences. My fingers have forgotten how to type, settling only for clicking and dragging while I hold my breath. My eyes have been replaced with cameras, my legs with tripod attachments. But it has been worth it. Because now, finally, I can show you my first ever video review. I’ve dabbled in the video arts over the years, but this is a new level because it involves more than simply painting my nails. Written reviews are not going away — there will just be video reviews sprinkled in every once in a while. For this video review, I . . . read more

We need to talk about what’s happening with LELO. For about three years, they’ve mostly been releasing convoluted, overpriced, “innovative” pieces of shit topped off with pretentious marketing. It began in 2011 with Lyla, a remote-controlled egg that only responded when I pointed the remote directly at my vulva. The Smart Wands, in 2012, included “technology” which caused them to fail at inopportune moments. 2013 brought us Ida, easily the most functionally deficient LELO toy I’ve ever tried (that’s putting it mildly), and the useless Hula Beads. This year, we were blessed with Ora, an “oral sex” simulator, which was a waste of my clit’s time. And now we have this. Your eyes do not deceive. That is a cock ring with a pinstripe-lined box, LELO-branded cufflinks, and a money clip . . . read more

[What happens when the media misrepresents squirting? Similar rage.] Less than a month ago we were attacked by headlines screaming that the G-spot doesn’t exist, and here we are again, with yet another news source “reporting” (I use that word quite loosely) on yet another “study” “proving” that the G-spot is a “myth” and EVERYONE CALM DOWN AND TOUCH YOUR CLITORIS. It’s not the first, and it will never be the last, but it’s the one that broke me. My soul has been cracking, little by little, each time this happens. Like that time a sex educator drew a question mark on an anatomy chart in place of a G-spot. That time a guy dared to write a book called What Do Women . . . read more