I Will NEVER Give Up My Vibrator — Or Looking For The Right Man

Photo: weheartit
sultry woman in bed
Love, Sex

I love myself, but I want to love SOMEONE else, too.

After getting acquainted with my first good vibrator years ago, you couldn't convince me that men still served a purpose.

Perhaps, back on Jupiter, but just not here but not here on Earth. Needless to say, I was in beginner's bliss. 

It probably had a lot to do with the rabbit to real ratio of orgasms being unrivaled since at that time no one had ever given me one — while my rabbits and bullets never let me down.

Not to mention, there was no dealing with the bullshit strings that come attached to men. 

But while it may be true that we don't need anyone else to get our own nut off because let's face it — batteries feel better than balls — I can't ignore the empty feeling I feel when there's no one to cuddle with.

I know I don't want all the baggage that can come with the wrong man, but I definitely DO want all the warm fuzzy sh*t that comes with the right one.

Much to my dismay, that type of intimacy just doesn't come packaged and sold on Amazon Prime.  

Weird enough, I'm not the only person who had this thought.

Back in 2014, a vibrator went on the market making a game-changing promise to replace "a billion husbands." And, according to Salon, a lot women bought into it.

While that logic might seem to be many moons ago, there's probably still one too many men and women alike who still think it's true. 

Here's the thing, though: In a generation where love and intimacy are taken for granted while hookups have become overrated, I value BOTH just as much as I do a good orgasm (if not more). 

As much satisfaction as I may find in having fulfilling sex every single time I f*ck myself, I can't — and won't — ignore that empty feeling I feel after I finish. You know, that feeling that overcomes me when I don't have anyone to lay nuzzled up with afterward.

The minute I get comfortable with that lack of intimacy is, sadly, the moment I've decided to settle for being the modern cat lady.

It's the moment I've completely given up hope and decided that I'm enough — that sharing my life, my body, my sex with someone else has been deemed unnecessary.

And, while that may be true to an extent or even 100 percent true for some, it won't ever be my truth.

I want it all!

And although I can be more than enough for myself in many ways, this isn't one of the ways I'd like to count solely on myself. Not for any kind of loving. Not forever.

To some, this may sound desperately needy in the age of independence, according to science, it's actually pretty normal to want to love and be loved by someone other than yourself.

No number of self-love mantras or, in my case, sessions belting out Hailee Steinfeld's 'Love Myself,'  can refute the fact that we as human beings find emotional and mental value in the intimacy that we receive from others.

This is a most basic need for us. I'm just one of the few willing to admit it — willing to admit that I do, in fact, need someone else.

And contrary to what a younger, fascinated, and perhaps even ignorant me may have thought all those years ago — sex toys can't nor will they ever be a satisfactory replacement for men, love, or the feeling of real penis penetration.

I'm ready for something real, and I won't settle for less in any capacity, not even if less is the almighty power of my toy collection. 

However, none of this is to say I plan on throwing out my trunk of toys anytime soon.

For the time being, I'll continue to play with by myself while I wait for my Prince Charming. And, when he does come I'll know I deserve it because society has this berserk idea that loving myself is some sort of pre-req to loving someone else. (Cue the eye rolls, please.)

Suffice it to say I'll likely be the most loving self-lover there's ever been when my time does come.

 

Author
Blogger

Expert advice

If you can recognize this pattern, you can handle your favorite narcissist more effectively.
Are you still single and you don't why?
You constantly feel like you're walking on eggshells.