My first time using a vibrator was practically a cliché. I lay in bed afterwards in my dark room, under my warm blanket, with a sense of stillness I hadn’t felt in years. My mind was quiet. I was not engaged in any activity; I was not looking at blue light, and I was not thinking. This is what monks must feel like, I laughed quietly. Used a vibrator once and immediately began to feel spiritual. Clichés are clichés for a reason, and post-nut clarity is real. Yes, even for women.
First things first, I'm not special, and I have the same story as everyone else. In this case, that’s very good news. More than half of my college life was spent on Zoom. I scrolled aggressively through my phone amid a global pandemic and did everything to numb myself to the uncertainties of the world. Like most of my peers, I have dabbled with mental health difficulties and a generation-wide ennui (Gen-Z problems). It's nothing compared to the real, tangible problems that people are grappling with, but it does mean that I go about life with a near-constant hum of anxiety lurking beneath the surface. Kind of like being in a really fast car with no brakes. You too, right?
Like everyone else, I told myself "It is what it is," and kept going. So did the hum. Until I used a
vibrator for the first time, and the brakes of the really fast car suddenly started working. I was able to pause. Just for a few minutes, but pause nonetheless. The good news is that since we're all in the same boat (or ridiculously fast car), you can stop too.
The first time I tried it, I was home alone. I remembered the unopened box that was hidden away under four tattered Nicholas Sparks novels. Before I could change my mind, I opened the box and grabbed the hand-held Candy personal massager. It was a bright orangish-red and fit easily in my hand. I held it under a running tap, partly because I wanted to see if it truly was waterproof and partly because I wanted to delay using it. I triple-checked the lock on my door, drew my curtains (I live on the 16th floor, so I don’t know why I did that), replaced my panda plushie from the bed to behind the curtains, and turned off the lights (don’t know why I did either of those things either). I turned it on and stared at it for a few seconds. Who invented vibrators? Was it a woman? I made a mental note to Google this afterwards. I tried to lie down in a comfortable position, which took a few tries. With a pillow, without a pillow, with two pillows and a fuzzy cushion. Blanket on and blanket off. I even tried putting on some music which seems like a good idea in theory but turned out to be a difficult decision given the circumstances. Eventually, I stopped dawdling and got down to business. I played around with it for a while, experimenting with different speeds and positions. Kind of like a warm-up. And then it happened.
I felt a small but powerful charge shoot through my body. It was a shock (this little machine works?). Followed by euphoria (this little machine works!). I finally stopped thinking and gave in to it. I was able to move the vibrator intuitively so that the small charge became bigger and longer. My body fell into a rhythm of its own–it didn’t need me to guide it, or have thoughts or coax it into doing anything. The tiny machine was enough. After about five minutes, I had an orgasm. A real one this time. That's when I realised why pop culture has developed an obsession with depicting women's pleasure in recent times (something that irritated me as a sulking teenager desperate to see women with depth). It's because women experiencing pleasure is fucking glorious. Pleasure, joy and peace over depth any day. My teenage self can take her complaints elsewhere.
That night I fell asleep almost immediately which means that I had found a solution to another long-standing problem i.e. insomnia. When I woke up the next morning I probably felt what every woman who’s ever used a vibrator feels–an urgent need to tell her friends about it. I told my best friend and without missing a beat, she matched my exact level of enthusiasm. We dissected my experience more thoroughly and more efficiently than any exam or relationship. We discussed how it felt, if there was any pain, and if it was better or just different than doing it with a partner. I didn’t feel any pain and found it better than sex with a partner but needless to say, it’s different for every woman. We concluded that my experience was a roaring success and the perfect antecedent for her to get her first vibrator.
I hope that you, the reader, also take the plunge.
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About the author
Reya is a freelance writer who is obsessed with graphic novels, bubble tea, and cute animal videos. They tried a vibrator for the first time and couldn't help writing a review about it.
