Ode to a Broken Vibrator

When my first big love ended I couldn’t masturbate. Scrap that, I wouldn’t. I felt dirty. Disgraced. My horniness a sign of my desperation. “Look at her. Unworthy bitch can’t find a man to fuck her”.


At the end of my second great love. I refused that storyline. Being single is empowering. Masturbation is important.

My debit card took a beating that week. "Investing in sex toys is an investment in yourself" I argued as I looked at the noticeably large chunk no longer in my account. Mortified and slightly proud of the fact that the company gave me a free gift for spending so much.

This is an ode to one of those purchases, who sadly gave up on me this week.

Yes, I’m speaking to a vibrator like its a person, yes I’m aware that it's odd. Let us just say its KonMari. I’m thanking my possessions for their time in my life and passing them on - to the bin.



Dear Vibrator,

Your arrival was provocative. The discreet, unmarked packet bursting with potential orgasms. Toys of all shapes and sizes within. My mind a whir with where to start.

This was going to be fun.

I won’t lie, I was underwhelmed when I saw you first. A 1970s porn scene plastered on your packaging, the little plastic window showing off your shape. You were a sickening shade of pink. Not the most feminist of objects considering you were about to give me a way to get myself off without the help of anybody else.

But hey, I spent the money, you were going to be tested.

I wrapped your straps around my legs and one around my waist. Positioning myself, legs spread, I put you where I figured you should go. Taking the remote in hand, with a hopeful apprehension, I turned you on.

Wow.

You opened my eyes to a different type of orgasm. Hands -free playing has a lot to offer. Even if I didn't quite know what to do with them.

Ever since, we’ve had great fun together.

Taking my pants off became unnecessary for a quickie. Fitting snugly in my knickers, no cumbersome handles or rubber dicks in the way. I came standing up, on my stomach, bent over the bed, on all fours. The need to not hold you in place opened a great many possibilities.

You weren't the quickest orgasm I’ve ever had but you still beat any man in a race to the finish line. You worked amazingly with men too. The ones who weren't threatened and very few were. You’re pink and small, cute and shaped like a hummingbird.

They were the best orgasms. Bent over on all fours, shoulders pressed into the bed. Hit hard from behind with you working my clit. Orgasm guarantee. Loud, crashing orgasm that pushed any guy over the edge.

Until the last time.

I assumed my position. He suggested I pull you out. I slid you out from the box beneath the bed, placed you between my legs and turned you on. Except nothing happened. I turned you off and on again. Nothing.

"It’s okay" I guffawed. New batteries. You ate batteries like you were never going to eat again.

New batteries in and nothing. Devastated.

I used another toy that day. It just wasn’t the same. handles and rubber penises got in the way. You were always compact enough to do the job without interference.

So, I’m sad to see you go. We’ve had so many good times together. You weren’t without fault but you’ll be missed.


Will I buy you again? Probably not. Two years, what feels like hundreds of batteries and a slow orgasm. But I will follow that thread. More exploration and more hands-free kits for definite.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

The girl who broke you, probably from overuse.