What’s the Carbon Footprint of My Vibrator?

Just in case you haven’t heard, Green is the new black of sex toys. 

Yes, it is now possible to achieve sexual satisfaction and take socially responsible actions to protect the planet. You can engage in eco-friendly playtime with seaweed-based dildos, phthalate-free vibes, vegan condoms, and hand-carved wooden sex toys (with organic varnish, naturally). When you’re ready to make the switch, there are even vibrating recycling centers that will dispose of your worn-out rabbits and plastic penis pollutants safely. My imagination runs wild at the thought of this island of unfit toys.

This should make me ecstatic, yet I greet this news with pure rebellion. 

I’ve changed my light bulbs, my toilet and my detergent – happily. But I’m drawing the line at replacing some of my vibrators.

I can imagine the legions of vegans who will read this as a battle cry. They’ll scoop up their faux fur handcuffs and come after me brandishing 100% hemp floggers and whips made from recycled rubber inner tubes. 

Does this make me shake in my 5”-stilletto thigh-high pleather boots? No. (But it does provide fodder for a potential future fantasy. Hmmm…)

I completely understand choosing organic products when it comes to lubes and massage oils. Anything that reduces the possibility of yeast infections has got to be good. And I get that, for some women, a penis is the only animal product that has an admission ticket to their vagina.

But do I really want to replace my secret stash of all-stars with vibrators that carry the Green Seal of Approval? Um … NO!

Finding the right vibrators doesn’t happen overnight. Over the years, I have spent more time and money than I can count, searching for models that guarantee my Goldilocks moment: “Ooh, this feels just right.” Vibrators aren’t Swiss-Army knives that come equipped with pullout devices for every occasion. Situations change, moods fluctuate, privacy issues come up, and let’s face facts: A woman’s erogenous zone plays favorites, bores easily, and comes equipped with a mind of its own. I sometimes picture my sweet spot retreating into her Juicy Couture pink hoodie and whining, “Oh, No. The Super 9000 again! Been there.  Done That.”

After much trial and error, I now have a trusted array of toys. My line-up includes a powerful travel slim-line, Jimmyjane’s Form 6 for my adult swims, my beloved Wahl 7-in-1 personal massager, and the Eroscillator, the one vibe I’d rescue if my house goes up in flames. I thought my search was over, but now I discover that I need to worry if all of my vibes are certified as Energy Star appliances. 

I have complete confidence in my power tools, and to start the process all over again is more than a little dispiriting. After all,I already own several pleasure wands that are certifiably green.  My pocket vibes contain only rechargeable batteries, and I am now the proud owner of the Mia, an ingenious Lelo vibe that I can charge in my computer’s USB port. Moreover, my gorgeous Jimmyjane is safe for the two most important heavenly planets–the earth and my body. 

But enough is enough. Sure, a wind-powered vibe is pollution-free, but will its transmission grid carry the same mega-watt power that I require? Brain research is beginning to show that anticipation of food can affect how it tastes, and the same is true for my sex life. I have a variety of erotic appetites, and I love knowing that I have just the right device to quench my varied thirsts.

 There’s no way around it: imposing a social consciousness on my libido is an unwelcome burden. I’ve been through the wide-eyed phase of a neophyte’s curiosity. Now I find solace in knowing exactly what I want and how to get.  I’m also no longer enthralled with a random theory of events, and I take issue with Wundt’s findings that an intermediate level of arousal is the most pleasurable. Trust me Dr. Wundt, my g-spot bears no resemblance to your inverted U-shaped curve—it demands the kind of power that only my plug-in models can provide. As a result, I look for the same quality in my vibe energy source as I do in my martinis—a little dirty. Turning off the lights in my home to save the planet is doable; giving up my Acuvibe is not.

My refusal to totally embrace products approved by Mother Earth also says as much about my sexual personae as it does about the state of my bank account.  I enjoy the thrill of being naughty and savor the power that bad girls attract.  How can I concentrate of making mischief if I’m too busy checking on the status of my solar-powered vibe? So what if my pitcher of sun tea and my vibe use the same clean energy source? When it comes to sex, I’m seeking vixen not virtue.

Then there is the question of lingerie. Despite the promise of eco-kinky chic, I have yet to find sexy garb that lives up to its name. If you don’t believe me, spend some time browsing through sustainable clothing catalogues. Promoting the advantages of planet-friendly fibers, they feature “spicy gear” such as 100%  hemp halters. These styles may be a turn-on for Woody Harrelson, but not for me, unless of course I’m in a cult-girl goes crazy kind of mood.  It can happen, but it pretty much peaked for me when People magazine featured the children of Waco on its cover.

If all this makes me an environmental outlaw, so be it.  I’ll bend over and take whatever punishment your sustainable, fair-trade wooden paddle has to offer. When it comes to my sex life, I’m not always after the green.  I want hot, red-hot.