For my birthday last month, two of my best friends conspired behind my “innocent” back to buy a vibrator for me.
While the thought of them giggling around a sex shop while asking numerous (and varied I’m sure) questions of the sales assistant was nearly as funny as the gift itself, the motivation behind the gesture was perhaps less so.
That night, after quite a few beers and with my dad, step-mum and numerous guests safely ensconced in the courtyard downstairs, they presented my new friend (which I guessed beforehand – in all fairness, it does have quite a recognisable shape) with the serious intonation that they bought it for me so I would stop sleeping with the wrong men. Roger that.
I think they meant one man in particular, whom I’ve only made scant reference to in this blog, and whom I haven’t slept with – let alone seen – for more than 100 days or so now anyway. Not that I’m counting or anything.
The reason I haven’t written more about him, and the mess that I temporarily became when our love affair abruptly obliterated after promises of a future that I know now he could never commit too, is because some days I love him still.
And other days, well, I wish and wish and wish for so many different things that writing about my schizophrenic feelings would likely make me seem more unhinged than usual.
So, the appearance of a vibrator, who was instantly christened Victor, was about much more than a potentially lonely vagina. It was about a potentially broken heart.
Of course, before anyone comes up with a list of reasons why a living, breathing man is better than Victor, the point is for me at this moment in my life, a vibrator is better than falling (again) for a broken dude who couldn’t love me – or anyone else.
But I do sometimes wonder if I’m a sadist or perhaps I just have a fetish for fractured human beings because they make me look more sane?
Whatever my deep-seated issues are, which no doubt have been lingering around since I was five, Victor’s entrance into my life has inspired me to come up with this helpful list so he knows why he’s so much better for me than men at this moment in time – not that he can read of course.
24 reasons why a vibrator is better than a man (for me at the moment)
- A vibrator always knows where your clitoris is – always.
- You don’t have to make small talk with a vibrator or compliment them on their appendage size (ditto, you’re never surprised by aforementioned appendage size the first time you get naked together).
- A vibrator never finishes before you do and then promptly falls asleep.
- You never have to watch sport with a vibrator.
- You never have to meet your vibrator’s mother.
- You don’t have to put up with a human jackhammer, racing to an orgasm finish-line of their own secret choosing, with a vibrator because the speed control is literally in your own hands.
- A vibrator will never try to come on your face, your boobs or literally anywhere at all.
- A vibrator will never “accidentally” confuse anal sex with dog-style.
- If you’re too tired for sex, a vibrator will never sulk around the house for days at a time.
- After you’re finished with your vibrator they don’t mind being coldly shut in the sock drawer – unlike most men I would presume.
- A vibrator is loyal and always finds you sexy, even if you’re wearing your ancient, holey, undies in bed.
- A vibrator never takes up most of the bed, hogs the blanket in winter, or tries to give you a Dutch Oven.
- You don’t care what your friends think of your vibrator.
- It would be supremely weird to introduce your vibrator to your parents – even if they were downstairs when you first met.
- If your vibrator gets a bit worn out, you just callously buy a new one and neither of them will care.
- A vibrator will never lie to you.
- A vibrator never gets performance anxiety.
- A vibrator never wants to come before you.
- A vibrator never complains that you’ve drunk too much.
- You never have to wonder where a vibrator is and whether they will call you because, well, it doesn’t have a phone or hands for that matter.
- A vibrator never gets too tired to finish the job – unless it runs out of batteries and then you just buy some more from down the corner shop.
- A vibrator never wants to sit around talking about their, or your, feelings.
- A vibrator will never spend every day of the best part of a month with you, tell you all their secrets, make promises, and then promptly disappear like it was all some type of magical movie mirage.
- A vibrator will never ever break your heart.