Throwing away sex toys is a strange, strange experience.
It's very similar to throwing away a child's lost tooth or a ratty old bra. They have done their time, served their purpose and although there's sentimentality attached, there's no place for them in a memento book. Nobody I know wants a secondhand vibrator, baby tooth, or saggy bra.
I'm sure there's an artist somewhere in the world who's producing an art installation right now using old butt plugs held together with discarded underwire, but I'm not really in the mood to find him nor am I in the mood to begin an art project of my own.
How many vibrators does a girl really need, anyway? I apparently needed 17, in every color of the rainbow and in every size possible: some realistic, some just plain terrifying.
First to be tossed in the trash was a wobbly green vibrator bought for me by a friend back in the 90s. (Should you even keep vibrators that long? I shiver.) Over the years it amassed so much cat hair and sock fuzz that it looked like the Hulk had a very questionable night with a glue stick and the laundry basket.
Second to go was a little pink rabbit I received in a bachelorette gift bag. (Why we have to make rabbit vibrators look like rabbits, complete with buck teeth and a carrot, is beyond me.) The sad truth about this little vibrator is that it gave out halfway through its first use. If you've ever had a vibrator die on you in a moment of need, you'll surely understand my recent purchase of a $150 rechargeable vibrator with a 10-year warranty.
Deeper in the drawer I found an egg-type vibrator with a purple silicone sleeve that had dozens of dangling purple nubbins at one end. I'm fairly certain the nubbins were meant to entertain my clitoris, but my clitoris wasn't amused. Instead, my clitoris felt a little strange with something that resembled Barney the Dinosaur's unkempt goatee near it.
As I continued to unearth many of the treasures contained in my "sock" drawer, I found some rusty nipple clamps, several sets of Kegel balls, and complicated bondage straps I had long since lost the instructions for.
Many of these sex toys had been at the bottom of the drawer for so long they were coated in a fine layer of immovable dust and fuzz which just screamed UNHYGIENIC.
Once the drawer was down to functioning vibrators, plugs and blindfolds, it was time to move on to the various lubes, lotions, creams and gels contained within. First was the warming nipple gel that turned my pink parts into sticky cat hair magnets. Another gel claimed to be tasty and delicious, and it was ... if you consider cough syrup-flavored penis appetizing.
Then there was the cream that promised my clitoris a "cool and tingling" sensation. If by "cool and tingling" they meant "feels like you peed your pants," then job well done. Also lurking in the corner was the remnant of a lube that accidentally turned my husband's mouth numb.
By the time I was done, I had a garbage can full of oddly shaped silicone, useless wires, discarded dildos and a few scraggly feathers. The drawer was scrubbed clean of all remnant sock fluff and replenished with creams and lubes that do their job without stink, stickiness, or the unexpected side effect of feeling like you were shot up with Novocaine.
The last real challenge was getting the bag out of the house without curious children asking why I was throwing away so many "teething toys." I'm pleased to say I was successful.
Here's the most important lesson I learned after going through so much sexual waste: Don't take a vibrator just because it's free.
When purchasing a new one, look at them the same way you would a potential partner: for quality and durability over time. Just like a good mate, invest in them, take care of them, and they will take care of you for many years to come, if you know what I mean.