For six months or so I've been in a relationship that has, for the most part, been long-distance. For those that can't put two and two together, this means a lot less getting down'n'dirty — and for a girl like me *wink face* that is a major issue. So in a modern day coming-of-age style affair, I decided to head to my local and invest in my first-ever vibrator. Goodbye sad hornbag state of mind and hellooo lonesome satisfaction.
Heading to the adult shop was like going to my first day of a new job — I was a little scared and didn't know where to stand or who to ask for directions, and the woman sitting at the desk didn't seem approachable.
I called my girlfriend as I crept around the store like I was in a game of Where's Wally — except Wally was surrounded by pink fluffy handcuffs, silicone vaginas and women with glossy, open mouths staring pornographically from magazine covers. Easily distracted, I spent some time asking Tiff to Google certain products while I laughed like a 12-year-old. FIND THE VIBRATORY THINGS, MEGAN.
Bless her cotton socks, the scary-looking lady turned out to not be scary at all — in fact, she was super nice and engaged me in conversation (and made me take a mental note not to stereotype people in future). She led me to the section that would apparently give me the ecstasy I required on occasion, and left me to make a best friend all on my own.
The end result: Andy! Say hello to Andy the sex stick.
He is purple and nicely sized and nothing too fancy, asides from the 10 different Morse code-like vibrating modes. I swear you could send distress signals with Andy. He'll click and vibrate in any emergency situation.
After my purchase I showed my GF the result (like, we're gonna have a lot of fun here), and she showed me her stealthy lover, "Richard." Apparently I don't know a vibrator when I see one because Richard is like a circus performer compared to poor little Andy. Pleasure tool, nunchucks, LED lighting . . . and I'm pretty sure it hums any song you yell at it.
But after an amazing first meeting with Andy, I have decided to say goodbye to him. Because despite appearances, Andy made me lose my mojo.
The orgasmic state of Megan, which is built on human connection, became detached and impassive. I certainly don't think the use of a vibrator is a negative thing — quite the opposite actually, it's lots of fun. For me though, sex and desire are fun predominantly because of the skin-on-skin action, and the synchronised movement.
Andy was — to be real — just too good on my own. We climbed the summit too quickly every time, and as a result I became lazy with my partner. I wanted less because I was getting it elsewhere.
Maybe I'm being a little over-dramatic about the negatives for me, but in the end I said to my vagina, "Live your life giiirlll," and drowned Andy in the pool (and then put him in the bin).
My advice to my fellow comrades with Andys or Richards of their own is to keep charging him and using Morse code to get you through emergencies — but consider rethinking regular use if it's hindering your sex life, and not enhancing it. Food for thought.