I was at a friend’s birthday party recently that was attended by a wide range of age groups. Most of my friends fall into the late 20s-early 30s range, but there were a few youngsters there who had barely hit the legal drinking age. As the night wore on, the inebriation reached substantial levels and conversations turned to the racy side.
While the gentlemen went outside to stroll along the freezing coastline – they had rented a beach house – the ladies hunkered down around the table and started dishing the girl talk. To set the scene, I was the only person in the house who was sober (thanks to a lovely allergy to alcohol that developed about 5 years ago and abstaining from other intoxicating substances because I was driving home); everyone else was tripping balls in one way or another. When one of the youngsters started talking about her relationship troubles, I relished the opportunity to offer advice and commiseration. This was especially awesome because even the most mundane advice seems like the deepest thoughts ever to someone, as I mentioned, tripping balls. Minds were blown that night, everyone. Minds were blown.
She asked why we thought every guy she had ever dated seriously had cheated on her. My reply? “You’re dating the wrong guys.” When she asked how one knows they are dating the wrong guy, I offered the two pieces of advice I have found most useful. Number one: Do you take him around your family and friends, and what do they think of him? I know that historically, for me, there have come points where I start distancing myself from those close to me because I know they have reached their limit of tolerance after witnessing or hearing about too many awful stories or situations. Instead of dealing with the reality that the relationship is no good, I deluded myself into thinking it was okay by avoiding situations that would prove it was not. Secondly, I asked her to think about whether she really, truly, and honestly, deep down, believed they were the right relationships for her, or if she just kept trying to convince herself that they were. When people want something to work out, they have all kinds of amazing ways to rationalize even the most horrible things in their minds. I have ignored my intuition more times than I can count and every single time it has resulted in nothing but pain for me. Trusting one’s own gut is the best gift we can give ourselves.
Then the talk turned to the fun stuff. She asked what our favorite positions were. The trusty woman-on-top was trotted out, someone claimed a reverse-cowgirl, and I offered mine – doggy style, baby. When she asked why, I told her that it offered the deepest penetration while also allowing plenty of room to use my vibrator. If there had been a record player in the room, this is when it would have scratched to a halt. “You use a vibrator during sex?” she asked incredulously. I was a bit taken aback, as was my other girlfriend of the same age at the table because, duh, of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? I require clitoral stimulation to climax. Vibrators achieve this in an absolutely fabulous way and don’t make me sore for two days afterwards from grinding away with my hand or his. The two younger women were shocked and appalled.
“You have vibrators, right?” I asked. They both tittered and teehee’d like embarrassed schoolgirls, exclaiming that, no, they did not. My girlfriend and I looked at each other, aghast. How had these young women reached adulthood without obtaining toys designed for their pleasure? I think I bought my first one when I was pretty young, around 16, but I had discovered the joys of back massagers long before that. They both claimed that they didn’t need anything like that, that they were capable of having orgasms through vaginal sex alone, to which I, in my head, called bullshit. While they may be among the small percentage of women who can, I doubt that both of them are able to, and then I got sad that perhaps they actually hadn’t ever had an orgasm. After hearing stories of the men they had dated, they didn’t seem to pick the most giving and charitable partners, so it wasn’t an assumption made with no back-up.
My friend and I told both of them to go out the next day and get themselves a vibrator. Not next week, not next month; tomorrow. The words “life changing” may have been thrown around. Upon further reflection of the evening, I thought about all the other young ladies in my life who may not be aware of the joys that are vibrators, so I have made it my mission, my resolution, if you will, to get a vibrator in the nightstand of every lady in my life. Not only are they a fun way to pass the time alone, but they are a fantastic litmus test when dealing with new partners. If you whip out your vibrator during sexy times with a gentleman and he recoils or balks at the idea, he does not possess the self-confidence one should desire in a partner. The unwillingness to experiment and try new things in the bedroom is indicative of so many other issues a guy may have. The guys I have slept with who didn’t dig the vibe use? All turned out to be selfish jerks. The guys who are stoked to have something new and fun to play with? Always more giving, more exciting, and hell, I married one, so there has to be some rationale for my thesis.
I am probably preaching to the converted here, you sex-positive little minxes, you, but seriously, if you don’t have one yet, do not pass Go, do not collect $200, go get yourself a vibrator. No need to splurge on the fancy stuff; my favorite is a little egg-shaped one that was around $12. I promise, you’ll thank me. As soon as you come out of your room. It may take awhile. That’s okay. I’ll wait.