I Am Woman, Hear Me Buzz.

This may come as a shock to none of you, but I sometimes order vibrators from Adam and Eve and I’m proud of it!

If you’re my mom, dad, aunt, grandmother or any other person who just cringed at the first line of this post you may want to stop reading because what I’m about to write might shock you, though I’m sure the above sentence already did.

I spent years of my life thinking there was something wrong with me because I couldn’t achieve an orgasm with a man. The lovers I had were really quite selfish and never worried about my satisfaction.

Then when I was twenty I came upon one (pun intended) by accident when he was bold enough to try a position other than missionary with me.

I remember how grateful I felt to know that it was in fact possible for me to enjoy sex. Of course my orgasm became quite elusive after that, because

A) Most of my boyfriends had small wieners

B) All of them had no clue where my clitoris was

I’m not sure why but the thought of masturbating seemed wrong to me at the time. Dirty. Evil even. And I certainly didn’t want to be dirty or evil in my teens and early twenties.

Obviously I got over that and then some since.

No one in my family talked about sex when I was growing up, and I never really had girlfriends to talk to about it either. I’d been a bit of a loner due to my painful shyness. And by the time I got over my shyness I began going from one boyfriend to another, leaving little time to make friends when I lost myself in men.

After I had my son I became a stay at home mom. For awhile that was fine, but once my relationship with my son’s father began to crumble around me I felt very isolated and depressed while sitting alone in our apartment. At that point I wasn’t ready to confront him or leave him, so in an effort to distract myself and avoid losing my mind completely, I decided to find a way to make some friends.

I went online and joined a Meetup group for moms. I had no idea what to expect when I went to the first event. Frankly most of the women there deserved a hefty punch to the vagina, but somehow, against all odds, I found three women in that group who turned out to be my soulmates.

And I knew they were my soulmates the night we all got drunk at my apartment and openly talked about our need to masturbate because our husbands/boyfriends were less than stellar lovers, while we bonded over our mutual love of the sex toy retailer Adam and Eve.

That night, and those women changed me forever. I realized wanting and knowing how to please myself didn’t make me dirty, perverted or shameful.

It made me a woman.

And I’ve openly and proudly talked about masturbating ever since.

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