Toys not Tools
A tool is a handheld device that serves a particular purpose. A hammer is for hammering and a screwdriver for driving screws. There are right and wrong ways to use them. They are designed to get the job done with speed and efficiency. I thought sex toys would be the tools I needed to finish a job.
At age 20, I lived alone, newly single, and very excited to finally take my sexuality into my own hands. Up until that point, I had only one sexual partner in high school. We were both careful about secrecy and spent more time planning for PA days and predicting our parents’ work schedules than thinking about pleasure. The opportunities for alone time were few. When those short windows did open up, our time together was loaded with expectation. You can imagine the pressure and performance anxiety we both felt.
With parents and partners out of the picture, I strutted into my school’s sexual health resource centre and came out with a three-pronged, beautiful blue contraption called the Nirvana 350. When the clerk asked if I wanted anal, clitoral, or G spot stimulation, it seemed prudent to get something with the potential to do all three. I’m the kind of person who appreciates a multitool.
That loaded toy sat in a bedside drawer unused for years. I fumbled through a few uncomfortable attempts, always believing that my body would reward me if I did this the right way. Although I had freedom from parental supervision and partner expectations, I unknowingly kept the pressure to perform on myself. No magic was happening, and I grew frustrated. I wished for easy instructions to make it feel good:
Insert batteries. Power on. Hold steady. Rinse and repeat.
This approach was wildly unsatisfying. Instead of feeling sexy in my skin, I felt mechanical. Instead of focusing on how my body felt in the moment, I was anticipating something mysterious to happen.
No one thinks about other toys in this way. Toys invite individuality, imagination, and creativity. No one can tell you what scene to make-believe or how to find comfort in a stuffed animal. You pick toys up when you want to play. You stop when you feel tired or satisfied; ideally both. I don’t think I’ll ever want the kind of penetration that the Nirvana 350 seems to promise. But now that I have changed my mindset and have come to accept what I like, there are ways this toy can be fun for me.
“You pick toys up when you want to play. You stop when you feel tired or satisfied; ideally both. ”
First up, I bring my lips into the conversation. A blocker for me was thinking about the clitoris as a button. For some people, direct pressure doesn’t feel great. Have you tried pinching the clitoris between the lips of the skin? If that feels good, bring a vibrating toy into it by pressing the skin together with your fingers on one side and the vibrator against the other. The Nirvana 350 has a textured part made to sit on the clitoris when the middle shaft is deep inside. I’d rather angle it, so the clitoral part vibrates where I’m pinching and the shaft is just a tease against my bum.
Phallic toys with a bulbous head might have been designed for penetration but that top-heavy shape can also be used on the outside. I’ve learned that it feels good when I don’t use any vibration setting. I lay down with my knees bent and pointing up. I hold onto the bendy part meant for butt play. Then I drop the toy’s head against the top of my opening and let the weight of it slide down to where my body meets the mattress.
This toy once seemed too intimidating to use because I thought I wasn't shaped right to use it. Sex toys are often advertised and spoken of as a means to an end. For me, thinking about sex toys as tools to "achieve" orgasm has been seriously distracting from real pleasure. Masturbation is called playing with yourself for a reason. Without shame or an end goal stifling me, I am free to really play.
