The Pussy Wars: Goodbye Hello Kitty Vibrator

When I first saw the Hello Kitty vibrator, I dismissed it as just another novelty sex toy, but she keeps popping up like a twisted pez dispenser. And I’m starting to get really annoyed.

What’s next?  A Polly Pocket rocket? A baby doll vibe that cries “Wahl” if left unattended for too long?  Or maybe the new tween version of Dora will come equipped with a mini rabbit so she can start exploring her own prime real estate?

 Sure the Hello Kitty vibrator plays nicely with “I Rub My Duckie” and is a better bridal shower gift than another damn fondue pot. But scratch the pretty pink surface of this mechanical device and you’re left with a pretty ineffective vibrator. The poor design and the two AA batteries just don’t produce enough power, which means that you’ll be punching in and punching out on your rhyme clock with little to show for it.  The whole point of using a vibrator is to achieve orgasm. Why would you want to work so hard at it?  I’m not in it for the cute; I want acute precision and power.

 The underlying question, however, is why do females balk at claiming their sexuality as mature adults. It may seem that I’m reading too much into the semiotics of sex toys, and that I should chill out and adopt an attitude that is more sangfroid and less sangFreud.  But ask yourself this:  Can you imagine marketers of male sex toys tapping into little boy fantasies to increase a product’s sales potential?

 “Wow, You know what would really turn men on? A Lord of the C-Ring vibe? GI Blow condoms?” Elmo’s Erection extender? (Wait, did I just hear hundreds of legs crossing?)  Not a chance.

Men don’t want or need to cloak their sex drive with a scrim of childishness.  Nor do they collect kitschy sex toys that send their friends into paroxysms of giggles. They don’t just embrace their sexuality; they inhabit it.  Women should take note because sexual women are powerful women.  They have knowledge of their innermost inferno’s Morse code, and they understand that sex is as much about taking and taking as it is about giving.  

As for me, I don’t need Buzz Lightyear’s promise to take me “To Infinity and Beyond!”  I just reach for my Jimmyjane Form 6.  It is a loaded gun with the safety off, and my pleasure spots are clearly in its crosshairs.

Sorry Hello Kitty.  Our pussies won’t be meeting for a play date. I’ve put away my childish toys and only engage in recreational equipment that satisfy the siren that rouses me from sleep and ignite the powder keg of my sexuality.