[This toy really is the worst, but this is mostly an April Fool’s joke.] In the past month, I’ve lost the ability to form full sentences. My fingers have forgotten how to type, settling only for clicking and dragging while I hold my breath. My eyes have been replaced with cameras, my legs with tripod attachments. But . . .
I feel bad for celebrities. You’ll never hear me say that again. But they got the Afterglow in their goodie bags at the Oscars, and this is not what a good sex toy is. Not even close. Not even in the same hemisphere. (Tegan & Sara, if you’re reading this, I will personally buy each of you a Pure Wand . . .
The LELO Mona Wave feels like being fingered by someone who is absent-mindedly planning out the toppings on the pizza they’re going to order after I finally fucking come. I know that isn’t what you want me to say. You want me to say that the Mona Wave is like being fingered by the devil, or that it’s the . . .
I have now formed a conditioned response whenever I hover over a link and see the URL indiegogo.com. It’s a mixture of terror, disgust, and exasperation, which, upon clicking, either bubbles into rage or fizzles into mild interest, depending on the product advertised. The Minna Limon fell into the latter camp, but my initial thoughts were still mostly negative: Are we . . .
I’m in love. Its name is the We-Vibe Dusk, and I’m using it all wrong. This toy is supposed to be a vibrating butt plug. It looks like a butt plug. It functions adequately as a butt plug. But something compelled me to put this toy in my vagina, and it was absolutely one of the smartest . . .
I wish the entirety of this review could just be the word no. Not even repeated for emphasis, not even in all caps. Just a single, lonely, plaintive no. I am bored by how predictably mediocre the LELO Ora 2 is. When the press release called the Ora “the world’s most sophisticated oral sex simulator,” I didn’t fly into a . . .
We need to talk about what’s happening with LELO. For about three years, they’ve mostly been releasing convoluted, overpriced, “innovative” pieces of shit topped off with pretentious marketing. It began in 2011 with Lyla, a remote-controlled egg that only responded when I pointed the remote directly at my vulva. The Smart Wands, in 2012, included “technology” which caused them to fail . . .
Imagine a cat with its head tilted to the side in puzzlement. That is me whenever I use the LELO Hula Beads… only a lot less cute. It’s a head tilt that turns to a subtle wince that melts into a side eye and ends with a weary sigh. The confusion begins with the fact that . . .
“IT’S SO GODDAMN CUTE,” I stammered upon opening the Lovehoney Sqweel Go. I actually cooed over it, like an idiot. I don’t normally care if sex toys are “cute,” but this toy reminded me of a hamster or hedgehog or something. It was actually smaller than I’d imagined, which pretty much never happens. There was another reason for my excitement as . . .