Seriously, We’re Gonna Talk Vibrators…

Most of the time I am a lady. When I am not, it is a private matter. So, aside from my horror at publicly writing the word “vibrator” it is necessary in this context. We talked about navigating through widowhood. One of the things that happens to widows, and I assume widowers, is an unusual interest in what will happen to their private (read sex) lives now that they no longer have a partner. Going back to the lady part–this really is no one’s business but as I am trying to get my book published, it is pretty damn funny. So, we are going there.

Some of my girlfriends, who knew myself and The Norwegian well, are gravely concerned about how I will possibly take care of the needs he was so very adept at serving. They worry, perhaps, for my health or well-being or perhaps they are just nosy. They are a dear group and I humor them quite often as they do me when I am in need. Over the past year they have put up with quite a lot from me crying, whining and bitching. I owe them. In summarizing their concern, my dearest friend and a sorority sister said, “I just don’t want to see you shrivel and dry up to nothing.” Nice thought. So, in service of my health, my girlfriends suggested a vibrator. Not previously being an aficionado–remember The Norwegian was quite adept at service, I did not really see the need. And, although I have a smart ass nature, I can be a bit of a prude evidently.

My journey into vibrator world did in fact offer proof of my prudishness and for the first time in my life I am exceedingly grateful for my midwestern sensibilities which include the belief that if your man cannot take care of your needs, it is not a new toy you need but a new man. Ooh–that sounded judgy. Not meant that way although I am grasping my pearls. I make no judgement of your life, or what you do in bed or with whom. Just keep your toys to yourself.

As a curious person and for book research I checked out the various names my girlfriends had thrown out. The Rabbit is a favorite of my married girlfriends. The Intense Classic and The Pink Sparkle are also big sellers according to the website to which I traveled late at night with the shades drawn. Here’s what I found.

There is a model made of realistic jelly. Now, jelly being what it is, is this really a workable solution? The Rabbit is adjustable, with and without little helpers and is also waterproof. The Dr. Laura Berman Aphrodite is a good first timer choice as is The Classic which bills itself as “slim, simple and approachable.” Hmmm. Approachable? Is there something to fear? The Classic is also noted as, “perfect for first timers and the woman who enjoys a hard, strong vibrator.” Is there a reason a woman would favor a soft, weak vibrator? Just asking.

But here is where I laughed out loud. There is the Lelo Nea, guaranteed to satisfy the most sophisticated woman. Meaning? Whores in fancy clothes? Really I am lost. I am however, finding this amusing. The Athena Pocket Rocket is super tiny. My husband may be dead over a year but if recollection serves, super tiny is not what one looks for in a partner, human or mechanical. But when I read this next one, I had to call my sorority sister so we could collective pee our pants in laughter. The Rock Box is the most powerful vibrator on earth. The Vibrator Institute (yes, this exists) has given it a power rating of “unrelenting.” It, stay with me now, “shakes and quakes with more than double the power of the Hitachi Magic Wand.” Wait, isn’t Hitachi a grill? No, that’s Hibachi. Wouldn’t want to mistakenly leave the Magic Wand out on the deck would we? Oh, and it comes with attachments for men and women. Bonus.

As we fell on the floor in laughter, on opposite sides of the country, I was whisked back to college where all our jokes were hilarious. We cracked ourselves up daily and the world was open to all sorts of possibilities. Hers include a friend called Rabbit. Mine include sex dreams with a dead man–who knew?

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