Sex Blog

By Molly Freedenberg

Illustration from Salon.com story on polyamory.

I used to say the word “polyamory” is just shorthand for “really slow break-up.” Though I know two couples who manage to have successful, committed, loving partnerships both within and outside of their marriages, most cases I’ve witnessed have ended in disaster. And even more common, I’ve noticed, is that the people who discuss or consider polyamory are in unhappy relationships already. For polyamory to work, all partners involved must be good communicators, secure in themselves and each other, and, above all else, compassionate. But unhappy couples tend to be none of these. For them, opening the relationship is a way to get needs met without having to address difficult issues, including the idea of actually breaking up. Instead, opening the relationship intensifies existing problems, introduces new ones, and, usually, ends in a break-up anyway.

I used to be one of the latter. I was in a long-term, exclusive relationship that was satisfying in many ways. But our sex life was dismal. Neither of us wanted to break up, and none of our attempts to remedy our sexual problems seemed to work. So we began to discuss the possibility of finding sexual fulfillment outside our otherwise (mostly) happy home. But the mental gymnastics required to consider such a possibility always led to the same injurious conclusion: our relationship’s inevitable demise. Neither of us thought we could manage the jealousy. And even worse, both my boyfriend and I feared that if one of us were to find fulfillment outside each other, we might realize we didn’t want each other at all. The final decision? We didn’t do it. I decided I’m not cut out for open relationships, and neither are most people. Within a year, my boyfriend and I broke up, and I stayed almost entirely — and blissfully — single for the next two years.

Fast forward to the present.

By Molly Freedenberg

The G Twist in unintimidating Target/K-Mart blue…

I am a lazy masturbator. I blame it on the fact that I started so young (and so long before I connected masturbation to sexuality) that I’ve gotten too attached to, and too good at, my dependable 25-year-old method (indirect clitoral stimulation with my hand, on my stomach, legs crossed). If I can bring myself to four or five orgasms in less than 10 minutes this way, why bother with toys, lingerie, and setting the mood — in short, why make it more work?

The answer is, of course, that there is more to sex — both alone and with a partner (or several) — than simple orgasm. And there’s more than one kind of orgasm. As soon as I became sexually active with other people, I seemed to understand this intuitively. (It helped that many of my high school-era partners didn’t, and though I wasn’t quite sure what was missing, I knew it was a lot). But when I’m feeling solo and sexy, I tend towards efficient familiarity.

Which is why it took me nearly two weeks to test out my new G Twist from Good Vibrations, the highly regarded silicon vibrator with a ridged shaft, curved head, and base made to stimulate the clitoris. Or it could’ve been that the giant, matte black model with the realistic-looking head and spiraling shaft (sort of like a severed alien dick) was a bit intimidating, especially compared to its slim, pink, shiny plastic predecessor.