Ladies: we deserve a mind-blowing orgasm on the daily. In fact, with all the miserable headlines out there, it’s sometimes the one moment in a day when I feel a sense of relief, where the stresses of day-to-day life evaporate while I quiver, breathe, and cum into my sheets. As a favour to womankind (and I mean that wholeheartedly), I want to share my experience with a certain German invention, the Womanizer. It is without a doubt the most satisfying sex toy I’ve ever had (and I’ve had a lot).
I’m pretty much an average forty-year-old mom who works in marketing and leads a fairly modest life. But I have history and a surprising amount of experience testing out vibrators. (Who knew!) Let’s begin by rewinding back to 1998, when I purchased my first masturbatory helper.
I was a horny eighteen-year-old virgin in my senior year at high school. I started the year off frustrated, unsure of where to direct my energy. But by the time the third term arrived, I had lost my virginity, was having casual sex with the son of my mom’s dentist, and met frequently with a female classmate to have orgasms with. Things had moved fast, and I was excited about my newfound hunger for pleasure and experimentation.
I bought my first vibrator at the Condom Shack on Queen Street. I was the first of my girlfriends to get one. I remember being at a slumber party, pulling it out of my knapsack, and shocking my circle of friends with a big pink vibe. I can still remember the look on their faces. Some keeled over with laughter, while others yelled, “GROSS!” All of them, however, were curious. My friend Steph was so intrigued, in fact, that she asked if she could borrow it for a week. I packed it in a bag, along with a VHS copy of In The Name of the Rose, and recommended a particular scene to her. (Ed. note: Christian Slater, clad in a monk’s robe, is no longer my fantasy.)
Later that year, I was packing to go to university, with big plans to fuck a load of people. I tossed my vibrator into my duffle bag, amongst my wide-legged raver pants, crop tops, chokers, and hair wax. (It was the late nineties. I had a peroxide blonde pixie cut.) I parked my car on Rue Saint-Marc, in Montreal’s Guy-Concordia neighbourhood, and woke up to a smashed window with all my stuff stolen. My prized possessions were all gone, including my beloved vibrator! Living off a student budget, subsisting on grilled cheese sandwiches and Ichiban noodles, I had no money for a new sex toy. In the meantime, I mastered the art of the blow job with a man who surely didn’t deserve the number of orgasms I gave him. Lesson learned: love thyself first.
A few years later, I’d meet another man with a drawer full of toys: cuffs, whips, butt stuff, oils, gloves. At this point, I was in my thirties and a lot more comfortable with sex, sometimes even laughing through it. It didn’t always have to be about finishing; we could start, stop, pause for conversation. I became more comfortable with myself, my body, and my desires. I learned how to prioritize my pleasure and comfort.
Like most things in life, there is an ebb and flow: periods of intensity are balanced with quieter chapters. I am a mother now, and definitely at a stage in life where I prioritize sleep over sex. My body feels different than it did when I was eighteen, twenty-six, thirty-five, and while I may not be in a high-energy sexual stage, getting off is still critical. My partner and I fuck less, but for my own well-being, I whip out my vibrator almost daily, because life is a grind, and breaking to orgasm feels good. It relaxes me, it fills me full of warm buzzy feelings, and frankly, it reminds me that I’m not just a mother, but also a woman whose appetite for pleasure is ever present, even if actual intercourse happens less.
This brings me to the Womanizer. I knew I’d come, but I didn’t know that I’d be completely blown away by how off-the-charts my orgasm would be. It’s like comparing the fountain at the Toronto Eaton Centre to a Pacific Ocean Tsunami. Suffice it to say: HOLY FUCK. Unlike vibrators I’ve used in the past, the Womanizer offers touchless stimulation through something called Pleasure Air™ Technology. It arouses your clitoris using massaging changes in air pressure and a gentle sucking sensation that is unlike anything I’ve ever felt (the closest competitor being top-notch oral).
It’s an all-over mind-blowing body buzz. Just when you think it’s over, waves of ecstasy keep rolling with powerful orgasms that are much deeper than your everyday feel-good orgasm. And it’s well-designed, with a variety of styles to choose from. It comes with its own charging cable, it’s waterproof (for bathtub fun) and it’s REALLY quiet; the Smart Silence feature in the Premium model allows you to put the Pleasure Air™ on standby (which definitely came in handy when my five-year-old stormed through the door, unannounced, in the middle of the night).