Giving Up My Vibrator Was The Best Idea Ever

“I’ll grab some batteries for the Roku tomorrow,” my roommate said. VICE episodes and Netflix documentaries would sadly have to wait.

“No, hang on, AAA?!” I ran to my room, opened the closet doors and stood on my tip toes as I reached for the wicker basket containing a collection of prized belongings. Like a recovering alcoholic, I pulled out the neglected vibrator that surely must still have its batteries despite the dust, like forgotten Vodka at the bottom of a bottle. I excitedly expected to save the day.

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My First Time Sexting

“In an unexpected turn of events my writing friend has decided to start sexting me,” my guy friend texted, summing up the scene that was suddenly unfolding between us at 11 p.m. on a Thursday evening. I was just as surprised as him and can only blame my behavior on a post-comedy show high, a few beers and no plans.

Moments earlier I was in the backseat of an Uber, calling him to talk about an embarrassing encounter following my Stand-Up Class show. When he explained that he couldn’t talk, accompanied by a screenshot of a semi-nude girl, I decided I wanted to join the fun. I needed to know how this was done.

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Like a Vegas pool party, I was barely in the door when I removed my dress and snapped my most suggestive selfie to date, acting like a lace Urban Outfitters bralette and Forever21 necklace weren’t ridiculous at all. Somehow it worked though: suddenly I had his undivided attention and a crash course in how to sext.

At 4 a.m. our recap chat highlighted everything that went right about the hours of helpful instructions from him and creative lighting setups staged by me. But despite my friend’s generous feedback, there was something that was undeniably off-putting in my opinion: my vibrator.

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The Problem With Vibrators

“It’s like when the water bong came out for kids. Suddenly I’m more stoned than I ever could be with no effort at all,” said the stranger sitting to my left this weekend at Sip Coffee in Scottsdale, Arizona. He and his wife had to know what I was writing so intently, and I couldn’t help but think how microdosing on edibles is arguably cooler than bong rips these days. He understood.

“Yes! Vibrators are for lazy girls,” I agreed. It’s like eating McDonald’s Filet ‘O Fish. In your car. In the dark. When you’re not on a road trip and know you should be enjoying something healthier like home-cooked salmon instead.

Laziness is rarely sexy.

It wasn’t until the evening’s photos that I realized my vibrator’s utilitarian-like quality made it less of a toy and more of a kitchen appliance. It looked less like a girl having fun and more like a guy at the doctor’s office. The result was a Lenten promise to give it up for 40 days earlier this year.

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5 Ways Giving Up My Vibrator Was the Best Idea Ever

As I mentioned in the last blog post about giving up my vibrator, there were a few things that helped me make the transition from McDonald’s to Whole Foods, and OMGYES, patience and mindfulness are largely to thank.

1. I learned the hands-on approach.

If you asked for a massage, and your significant other grabbed the Brookstone back massager, every bit of your back muscles would be wondering how to politely ask for a more manual approach. Even as a non-hugger, I’m sure I would be the same way which is why I don’t know why I wasn’t enrolling in massage school a-sap.

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Until I remembered I was already signed up. Thanks to the website OMGYES, I learned exactly how to provide a world-class massage for myself, from edging to hinting to consistency. With hands-on video instructions, I finally knew what I was doing and practicing became a new pastime.

2. I figured out what’s a turn-on.

Not until I started drinking beer did I understand how good pizza tasted. And not until I stopped drinking beer at night with my vibrator did I realize how great other things can be without them.

My vibrator let me get away with a lot. It could typically push through any buzz or bad day, eyes closed and far from focused. But without it I realized that I truly am a morning person, do my best work after coffee and things are more enjoyable when you’re fully present to notice them.

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3. I became a better potential partner.

Though I haven’t yet had the chance to show off my new skills to someone else (I’m still in some kind of Lenten purgatory), I feel prepped and ready for when the time comes. I no longer have to feel like I’m lying on a doctor’s examination table unsure if I’m experiencing pressure when he prods around. Like a med student getting their PhD, I can point out where and how and do it myself if need be.

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4. I learned about multiples.

When you go back to the Thanksgiving table for seconds, they’re typically not a great as the first plate, but you do make the trip despite the fact that your taste buds are now semi-numb.

However, going back for seconds now feels less like a double serving of mashed potatoes. Instead of another dinner roll, I’m experiencing the mac ‘n cheese I didn’t notice the first time around.

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5. I gave up batteries for good.

If I’m at Circle-K at 11 p.m. asking for batteries it’s now just for my Roku.

Unscrewing my vibrator’s cap that night exposed evidence that the habit had finally been kicked. As I stared at the empty chamber, the feeling was bittersweet. I wasn’t sure the last time that there were batteries in it since February.

But there was no need. While my Urban Outfitters bralette post-comedy show might not have been the sexiest thing, ditching it along with my vibrator taught this girl next door not just how to sext but how to feel sexy. Batteries not included.


Photos taken in a Santa Monica alley per usual

 

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