One Valentine’s Day one year, I spent a week reviewing sex toys on my site, because I love my readers. I wanted to see what was out there, by putting it in here. Since that time I have gotten plenty of use out of the array of toys I was furnished with by the charming folks at The Stockroom, but one emerged as the clear favorite. It was the one I titled the “Get You In The Mood Vibe” because even if you weren’t in the mood for sex (not me, but someone else maybe) this vibrator would get you there. And then, it started to let me down.
This baby is called the G-Vibe, but I just call it “The Closest Thing I Had To A Boyfriend That Year.” Actually I don’t have to call it anything, that’s the good part about electronic equipment that gets you off, you don’t have to talk to it, or ask it about its day, or hear its boring work details. As long as it’s charged, it will be there for you, and you can be as rough with it as you want without thinking it might judge you or tell its friends that you’re a slut or complain that you’re “emasculating.”
I had been noticing for the past weeks that the action on the vibrator had become a little erratic and I liked it. The vibrating pattern became more and more unpredictable, and because I wasn’t paying attention to anything other than my own orgasm, I just thought I had found a different setting called “random.” I loved it because it is even more like being with a real person—you never know how and when they will touch you next, which is totally hot, unless they don’t know either. That is not hot, it’s just “tentative” which is about as arousing as a thousand spiders crawling around on your body scouting locations to lay eggs.
In the last week one of the prongs on the G-Vibe would cut out without warning, until I moved positions somewhat, then it would resume its arrhythmic thumping. This started out fun but quickly became very frustrating. I would be right on the verge of an orgasm and… just … a little… more… WHAT THE FUCK? I’ve been with certain people who would change positions with their mouths or hands or bodies, right when you were about to come, and I don’t know how someone picks up this lousy habit, but it seemed that my vibrator somehow had. Not. Happy.
So I don’t know what to do now. What is the procedure for returning a vibrator? What’s the warranty on this thing? Do I have to bring it back with a receipt like you do at Target? And more importantly, should I be worried that I am so sexually demanding I wear out inanimate, mechanical objects? How is any mere human being ever going to compete? Maybe the G-Vibe is just emotionally exhausted from my endless demands, all the crying when I have a really good orgasm, or to release the memories of old lovers, or the hours of repetitive strain. And after all this time with the same trusty companion, can you really blame me for anthropomorphizing?
I sent the G-Vibe to the manufacturer (I cleaned it first, you brutes) and after a prompt stress test (a horny masturbating MILF at the factory?) they agreed to replace it and sent one out tout de suite. The new G-Vibe was somewhat like a second husband, missing the glow of naively going into a relationship not knowing what could go wrong, but still willing to take the chance to be hurt again. The zest and courage my new G has displayed in the many months since then has meant I hardly even think about the O.G. at all…