Below you’ll find all of the sex toy reviews I’ve written at Of Sex and Love. Find my opinions on vibrators, dildos, media (sex education books, porn, DVDs and erotica), bondage and BDSM gear, lingerie, anal toys, lube, massage products, and more!
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I’ve also reviewed sexual health goodies.
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JIL Olivia Vibrator
$74.99
from SheVibe
Did you ever know one of those people whose personality was a sponge? They soaked up those around them. But when you remove that person from a group and get them alone, you find that they’re lacking in personality. They try so hard to please that you’re not sure who they are. Without a person or group to mimic, they’re bland.
Even worse, you wonder if you ever really knew them at all. You feel deceived.
It’s this way with Olivia, which tries to do so many things but never really manages to do any of them well. Perhaps I should know better. Almost every single toy I’ve used that wanted to be versatile has failed me.
Remember the bendable, twistable vibrator? No one would blame you if you didn’t. You might recall how much I disliked the Gvibe 2, which was advertised to work in 8 different ways but really only kinda-sorta achieved one.
I guess it comes down to this: I want my sex toys to do one thing really well.
If I can find some second use for the toy, that’s fantastic. Many internal vibes can work for clitoral stimulation.
Truth be told, I feel the same about most of my devices. I prefer an e-reader to a tablet because it’s set up to do one thing and do it well.
Olivia doesn’t do any one thing that well. The shape and curve of the shaft suggest that G-spot stimulation is ideal, but the thin, flexible neck means you can’t get the pressure you might like or thrust with any intensity.
It also means a lack of pressure when it comes to clitoral stimulation.
This vibrator just feels awkward in my hand, too. The neck is sooo flexible that the head flops around heavily. I always underestimate what companies mean when they advertise something as flexible, but this is also a case of the manufacturer overestimating how much flexibility a person would ever need. It makes the toy feel impossible to control once inserted it. You really can’t get a lot of precision with Olivia because it’ll bend any which way.
But it’s partially my fault, you know? Because I see words like “flexible,” and I think this toy does so much and sign myself right up. I should know better by now. Similarly, I should had realized that deep raspberry pink color was too good to be true. It’s a brighter, more run-of-the-mill pink in person.
I’m also flummoxed at the size of this, especially when compared with how flexible it is. There are plenty of reasons why a person might want a shorter toy or even one with a more narrow shaft, but those all seem negated by the flexibility. My fingers inch up the shaft in an attempt to gain some semblance of control, reducing the insertable length.
Although it doesn’t look like that extreme, it feels like Olivia’s shaft narrows suddenly after the head, so only the head provides much stimulation. The rest is too narrow or perhaps lacking in texture to do much at all. This would be fine if Olivia was a good G-spotter (I find those straight and narrow G-spot wands a bit boring but effective), but it’s not. But toys can have a wider shaft and still effectively hit the G-spot.
In terms of motor, Olivia is buzzier and louder than I’d like. There’s that “hollow” sound that some vibrators make (many Fun Factory toys used to) that suggests there needs to be more insulation around the motor. The wider base means your hand won’t buzz right off, however. Actually, I really enjoy the shape of the base for holding, and the single button is placed well to be used via thumb (it also lights up). I dislike the controls on most insertable vibes.
Aside from the three steady modes, there are a few pulsation and escalation modes. Some of these are terribly buzzy, and a few just seem like buzzier and/or weaker steady vibration modes. I am not sure why they’re included. Were the shape designed for my body, I would be fine with the steady vibes. Olivia wouldn’t be my favorite, but it would get the job done.
There’s probably someone out there who wants a toy that’s super flexible, can be inserted less than 5 inches, has a maximum diameter of under 1 1/2 inches, and provides middle-of-the-road vibrations. It’s not me, though. Olivia just fails at being enough for me. It’s not long enough, strong enough, firm enough, wide enough.
If I didn’t have to write about Olivia, I’d likely shove it in the back of a drawer and forget all about it. And that’s no vote of confidence.
Tongue Tied: Untangling Communication in Sex, Kink, and Relationships
$10 Kindle/%15 physical
from Amazon
I wasn’t intending to read Tongue Tied initially. I was previously unfamiliar with Stella Harris (who I now know is an experienced sex educator and coach as well as an erotica writer) and, perhaps more importantly, felt pretty familiar with communicating about sex. I’ve frequently read about the topic. I’ve argued that we need to talk more about sex and do it in a healthy way that isn’t inherently sex-negative. Hell, I’ve written about talking about sex and provided instructions for readers to do so. Tongue Tied, therefore, seemed a bit old hat.
But I heard Stella on American Sex, and she made a few points that resonated with me enough to change my mind. Soon after, I had a digital copy of the book, and it wasn’t much longer after that I had finished it. Unlike, say, BDSM: A Guide for Explorers of Extreme Eroticism, Tongue Tied isn’t a huge book, and it’s a pretty easy read. Of course, you can pick and choose what you read in Tongue Tied to save a little time and effort, but reading the whole thing gives you a better impression of not just how to communicate but what you need to do so.
Right from the introduction, Ms. Harris draws on her experience as a sex coach, explaining that her most frequently received questions about sex involved communication, even if the people asking those questions were unaware of that fact. A quick look at r/sex on Reddit shows that most people need to talk to their partners to resolve issues in the bedroom, so many people realize this. When our mouths are closed shut about sex, people learn the wrong — and sometimes dangerous — things from less-than-reputable sources. We need to talk about sex. However, like most things, it’s easier said than done.
Initially, I didn’t expect a book on communicating about sex to cover so much non-communication issues. But it’s true that one of the main inhibitors of talking about sex is the way people think about sex. From the very start, the author proposes that every person is responsible for themselves and the way they behave in relationships. She dedicates the entire first chapter to the goal of sexual communication (healthy relationships with boundaries and goals regardless of the specific arrangement of those relationships). In this chapter she addresses how it’s easier to talk about sex when you make a habit of it from the getgo but also how sometimes these discussions are uncomfortable, and that’s okay.
From here, she follows a chapter detailing the common mistakes when communication. Knowing what not to do when talking about sex is as important as knowing what to do. Ms. Harris writes about common mistakes include being selfish, not speaking up about what you want, assuming there’s such a thing as normal, and others. She also advises the reader to check their cultural biases and not to make assumptions or to lie about pleasure and orgasm (ie faking it).
The third chapter reveals how differently we can each define things as common as “sex”. This encourages clarity, specificity and positivity. The chapter ends with a quick anatomy lesson.
If you’re familiar with all these ideas, you might skip ahead to the next chapter, wherein Ms. Harris gets to the specifics of talking about sex, starting with when to do have conversations. I especially appreciated how she guides the reader through talking to friends as a form of support and when people should reach out for professional help to deal with their relationship and sex issues.
Readers who are struggling to define what they want would benefit from the chapter six in which Stella encourages readers to examine their future “perfect” sex lives and presents them with tools such as a Yes/No/Maybe list and a “Sensation Exercise.” It’s not the first time when she suggests tools that originated within the kink community for discussion “vanilla” sex nor the last. Throughout her book, Ms. Harris encourages explicit and practical communication in these ways.
The goal of these exercises is to encourage readers to explore their sexuality and find scenes that represent their desires and interests. This is the last chapter that focuses on setting the foundation for talking about sex.
The chapter that follows is one that provides examples of what to say to your sexual partners. Chapter 6 is where you’ll want to start if you have a good foundation for talking about sex but you just need to know what to say.
There’s some typical advice such as using “I” statements, and Stella suggests questions and exercises that reminded me a bit of sensate focus. The goal, at least, is the same: to learn more about your partner’s body and reactions. She stresses remaining positive, listening without judgment, and the word “No.” There are plenty of examples of exactly what to say that will benefit readers who just aren’t sure what words to use. Chapter 6 is the meat and potatoes of the book and perhaps the longest as well.
In the vein of sensate focus or practicing using a safe word, the next chapter details exercises to get readers used to communicating about sex including giving feedback, asking questions, and communicating without words. No book about communication would be complete without information about body language and nonverbal communication, so I was glad to see it included.
There are types of people who I would imagine find these activities silly, the type whom I suspect need more than a single book to fine tune their attitudes about sex, relationships, and communication. If readers don’t already agree with much of the author’s point of view, they’ll struggle to get much out of the book, I think. Arguably, most people reading a book about talking about sex are at least open to new points of view, but some people will struggle to learn from this book.
Others may find the exercises fun or sexy. But they’re useful if you go into them willing to experience and learn. I imagine readers might use these tools with new partners or over the long run to improve communication and understanding of themselves. Among the tools suggested are methods of tracking arousal, which is especially important to women, and using sex toys with partners. I’m so glad to see that included in these pages.
Incorporated into the book is a (short) chapter on talking about safer sex specifically, an important topic and one that may happen in the confines of a casual encounter with a stranger versus a longterm partner.
I appreciate that Ms. Harris walks us through apologizing and accepting an apology as part of her next chapter about difficult discussions, which also tackled fighting, mismatched desire, admitting a lie, and breaking up.
Chapter 11 had the potential to be one of the most useful in the book. The author lists examples of phrases to use in particular scenarios. However, she goes from examples to anecdotes involving past clients. From here, it seems that Stella becomes much less specific, illustrating fewer examples of how to speak about specific issues. This is especially noticeable when she talks about kink in the next chapter, and the section seems brusque. It’s not that phrases exemplified previously in the book can’t be used for these things. I just think a book that walks you through talking about sex benefits from specificity. Sometimes people know they need to talk about sex have all the right attitudes and goals but don’t know exactly what to say.
Communicating in a healthy manner can feel awkward and stilted to a person who hasn’t done a lot of explicit communication. The more examples, the better. Yet examples seemed sparse the further I got into Tongue Tied. It may not have been as noticeable if the author hadn’t done such a good job providing them in other parts of the book. But it was frustrating as I read on.
I am not sure if Ms. Harris was rushing to complete, felt that expanding on certain topics was too niche or would make the book too long, thought that specific examples weren’t necessary, or had another reason for her change. Unfortunately, this seeming lapse meant the end of the book was a bit of a letdown for me, and that the information on kink isn’t presented as usefully as information from previous chapters, especially chapter six. the final chapter — one self-care — made little impression on me because of my frustration.
This doesn’t mean there isn’t useful information in Tongue Tied, just that it didn’t quite reach its potential. This could be remedied in following editions or, less ideally, perhaps with a sort of companion workbook. But it’s a shame because Stella Harris writes in an approachable way, the book is easy to digest, and the topic is so important.
On a final note, Tongue Tied is gender neutral, a point that Ms. Stella makes on purpose and addresses early on. This should make it welcome to people regardless of the gender configuration of their sexual relationships.
JeJoue Mimi Soft
£69.99
from Toys 4 Naughty Boys
Seven years ago, I reviewed the original Mimi in a short, lackluster (both in my writing skill and my opinion of the toy) review. The truth was, I always suspected my original Mimi was defective because people loved it. I mean, almost every review was a rave one, and people discussed the strength of the vibrations favorably. I thought little of mine, and while I didn’t really discuss it in my review, I was also underwhelmed with the buttons, which were tiny and difficult to press. You might remember this being an issue with the G-Ki, another JeJoue toy. I also noted that the motor was loud and whiny, another turnoff.
I wound up trading both toys away. I have no idea who has them, but I recall sending away the Mimi with the warning that it may very well be defective. Sorry if you’re the person who wound up with it and if it was.
So, you’re probably wondering why I would try the sophomore version of this vibrator. And the answer, as always, is curiosity. In the past six months, I’ve tried revamped efforts of vibrators by We-Vibe and Fun Factory, so why not this one?
And perhaps I am just a bit of a masochist in this (and other) ways.
But the curiosity has me in its grips, just like this arctic blast. I’ve been wondering if my original Mimi was defective for so long that I just had to give this one a try.
I avoided calling Mimi Soft the “new” version because it’s not, really. JeJoue released it years ago. There have been plenty of reviews. I am late to the game. But I hope that my review will shed a little insight.
Mimi and Mimi Soft look pretty similar. They’re like pebbles that fit in your hand and quite remind me of JeJoue’s Pebble attachment, which I bought and promptly avoided reviewing due to my disappointment. I described the various ways this shape might be helpful in my original Mimi review, but for my purposes, I want to use it against the side of my clit with the toy perpendicular to my body.
For whatever reason, I thought the original was rather triangular. Perhaps it was. Perhaps I was just wrong. The Mimi Soft is definitely rounded, and the soft silicone exterior only adds to this impression. The tip is quite rounded and can easily be depressed with a finger or in use, of course.
I enjoy plush toys like this for clitoral use because I like so much pressure. I really grind the toy against my body and hold it tightly. A bit of plushness means I can apply pressure without worrying about cutting myself but also relieves a bit of stress from my fingers. While the Mimi Soft isn’t nearly as plush as the We-Vibe Wish (and it’s most plush near the tip and not where you’d hold it), this still makes it much more comfortable to hold than the original, which was hard-coated in plastic.
The plushness also lends itself to increasingly firmer use. As I get closer to orgasm, I can push until there’s no more give.
Mimi Soft has buttons similar to the original, which means they’re located on the end, work as the charging connections, are small and sit nearly flush with the toy. They’re surrounded by a layer of smooth plastic that snugly fits around the buttons. This makes them difficult to press. If you have larger fingers or longer nails, it’s a bit frustrating. I prefer a button that’s more offset from the toy and a bit plush itself. During use, my fingers struggle to find them, and the tiny symbols, and I certainly can barely differentiate between them. Fortunately, the – button is engraved while the + button is embossed, which makes it a bit easier. Still, if your fingers are covered in lube or you’re a bit distracted, the buttons will be frustrating.
These buttons turn the toy on and increase vibrations or power off and decrease, respectively. There’s a third button that cycles through the settings. The design is a no-brainer as long as you know which button you’re pressing. Both Mimi and Mimi Soft have 5 vibration levels, and you can navigate between the 7 pulsation settings with the center button.
I can still remember the feelings that encompassed me with the first Mimi. Paired with the confusion over everyone else’s enjoyment, it was a bitter cocktail. Fortunately, the Mimi soft is more enjoyable. The vibrations, especially the lower 3 settings, seem quite rumbly for the size of this toy. There’s an enjoyable pitter-patter that you can hear when it’s on. The vibrations are nice but not mindblowing.
Any experienced toy user will be unsurprised that the vibrations become buzzier as intensity increases, but the Mimi Soft keeps this to a minimum. Yes, the highest level tickles my hand a bit, but it’s much less buzzy than the highest level Siri 2, for example. And while Siri 2 seems a bit stronger, it also tickles my hand much more uncomfortably while in use. I find the strength of Mimi Soft on the fourth level good enough to get me off and can skip the buzziest, higher level. However, the depth of the vibrations on the lower settings produces some respectable pulsations if you’re into that sort of thing.
Don’t get me wrong, however. The real strength of the Mimi soft lies in its shape and softness. The narrow edge allows for more pinpoint pressure. I don’t so much use the tip as I do the side of the Mimi Soft. although, the tip would provide even more pinpoint stimulation that’s easily under your control.
Another improvement from the original Mimi is the lack of whining motor. The Mimi Soft is a bit loud for its size but not so much that I’d worry about someone hearing it in another room through a closed door, especially if pressed against your body under the covers or with other background noise. Since I’m comparing it with the Siri 2, I have to note that Mimi Soft is the louder of the two by a bit.
All things considered, I’d reach for Mimi Soft over similar toys when I wanted deeper vibrations. I may enjoy it more than my Siris because of the plush angle the side presents. However, it’s thin enough to bother my fingers for marathon sessions, so I’d rather use something larger/rounder if I plan to get off more than a couple of times.
There are many people to whom I would recommend the Mimi Soft as long as their requirements don’t involve penetration or massive amounts of power and assuming the motors of the Mimi and Mimi Soft are the same, I can rest assured that my first was a dud, and I was initially misled.
Cat-approved sex education
Unlike previous years, this list is filled mostly with books as I’ve reviewed more books than ever on my blog. I hope you’ve all enjoyed my book reviews. I’ve certainly
enjoyed reading most of them, especially the following.
This vibrator allowed me to write a scathing review, at least
Of course, not everything I tried was fantastic.
I don’t normally do this, but there were a couple things that really stood out in a way that was confusing. First up?
But this is just my opinion. I’d love to know if any of my readers agree or disagree. Got your own recommendations? Perhaps you want to warn us away from something? Sound off in the comments!
I’d also love to know what you’d like to see me review next year.
We-Vibe Wish
$129.99
from Tabutoys
Honestly?
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so conflicted about a sex toy.
There have been toys that I wanted to love and didn’t.
But this? I don’t even know, you guys.
I didn’t expect to like it. But the thing is? I almost love it. It’s so close.
If We-Vibe’s Wish clitoral vibrator were a movie, it would be Batman Vs. Superman. It’s not universally liked, but I saw glimpses of genius that, if allowed to come to fruition, would have made it a masterpiece.
I feel strongly enough that I would fight you just to make sure you acknowledge that, yes, there are some amazing aspects to this creation.
But I know that it falls short, that the criticism makes sense. But this vibrator has touched me somewhere besides my clitoris. It has a hold on me that I cannot deny.
So let’s jump right on. The Wish is a bold blue external vibrator that looks something like an asymmetrical stone. It’s larger than you might think from photos alone (4 inches long and almost 3 wide), especially if you have no banana for comparison. While it curves, ostensibly to fit in your hand, it’s definitely a little too big to be described as palm-sized.
I find the larger size is easier on my fingers than, say, the Pebble or Lelo’s Lily or any of those actually-stone-sized vibrators.
It has variable height (more than an inch thick in most places) and width along with a tapered tip. It’s coated in a pillow of silicone that makes it soft to the touch and further eases strain on my fingers. But the rigid skeleton is ungiving. I can get the pressure I need without any pain.
During use, I find myself lifting the back end a bit to rub the tip quickly back-and-forth. The control button is on the “butt'” of the toy, an ideal location for thumb usage in my opinion. I don’t actually like when buttons are on top of toys because that’s where I push with my fingers for pressure.
When it comes to vibrations? I was impressed. They’re pleasantly rumbly and deep. They’re broad. This is thanks to the two motors. I am sure anyone who loves the Tango might be intrigued by the Wish because of this. More on that later.
We-Vibe even describes this vibrator as similar to a wand.
Except it’s not.
A wand usually has steady settings over which you have control. That is not the case with the Wish.
You get nice and warmed up, you’re having a good time, and then.. the vibrations change.
It’s no longer a steady vibration; it’s a pulsation.
You haven’t changed anything, however. It seems like the first three settings are steady vibrations, but then it switches up to a pulse randomly.
You can try to coerce an orgasm out if it’s not ruined by the changeup. But that may not always be possible. You may be back at square one because the vibrator randomly decided to change what it was doing.
Now, I know that my readers will want me to compare this with the Tango or Touch. The Tango offers much more pinpoint stimulation. The Wish has a better shape than the Touch for me (I bought one from Babeland in Seattle and regret trying it.. again). The vibrations of the Wish are significantly deeper and stronger than either of those due to the twin motors.
But there’s another potential issue with this as reported by Epiphora: the dual motors sometimes result in a glitch that may not be noticeable by everyone. The motors may stop vibrating in unison.
I say this because I didn’t necessarily notice in use. So I sat the toy on the sofa next to me as I wrote my review and..
What. the. actual. fuck.
After a few minutes, I heard/felt the vibrations become out of sync. The Wish becomes much louder. And then it started crackling?
This lasted only a brief moment before it goes back to normal. The glitch feels like an odd trill and, you know what? I kinda like it. But that crackling? That would be ridiculously alarming during use.
And the Wish isn’t that quiet, to begin with.
My experiences with the Wish thus far have been.. polarizing to say the least. The first time, I coerced out an orgasm after a surprisingly-long amount of time. I tossed the vibrator on my dresser in frustration.
The second time I used it could not have been more different. For whatever reason, that pulsation didn’t kick in right away. It happened only once as I was well on my way to getting off, and it didn’t happen again. I was able to cum easily a second time because it didn’t take long, and the toy stayed at steady vibrations the entire time.
Basically, there’s no way to know when the vibrations will start to pulse and if that will be a help or hindrance to your pleasure.
What are you thinking, We-Vibe? Why would you do this to us? What do we ever do to you to deserve this?!
The company tries to explain how this is a good thing by lauding their “PowerPulse” technology. Yet, I am not alone when I say that this is frustrating. And I seem to have had a better experience than many.
On top of the frustrating PowerPulse settings, the other settings just seem kind of useless.
Those first three settings just look frustrating, don’t they?
I’m also hesitant about the single button. If this only had the three PowerPulse settings, that wouldn’t be a huge deal. But with 10 settings, that’s a lot of button pushing. And the button on Wish isn’t exactly user-friendly.
I mean, it seems like it should be. It looks pronounced enough, all right. But it’s actually stiffer than it appears and you have to press it in exactly the right location to get it to work.
I found myself surprised to be fumbling over this button. I can usually call which buttons will be problematic. I did not expect this one to be.
You may also want to know that to actually turn the toy off, you need to cycle through all of the settings. Otherwise, holding it for two seconds pauses it on the last-used setting. It’s more like pause than turning it off. This might be useful if the toy didn’t blink while it was de-activated.
I don’t want to use up battery for a useless light, and blinking lights in my home annoy the shit out of me.
And, okay, it works with the app. Not that you need an app if your sex toy only has one mode I’ll ever use, and it’s a disappointment at that.
I think all my readers know that I don’t want to mess around with that, though. When I’m masturbating, I want a hand on myself, my partner, my toy — not my phone. The very idea grosses me out, to be honest. One of those things is a breeding ground for germs.
So I didn’t even try it.
Yes, this vibrator is waterproof. But I have to like a toy to want to bring it into the shower or bath with me. And you need fairly strong vibrations to overpower the sensation of the water.
I… just.. ugh.
So what do I want from We-Vibe? I pretty much want a Wish II that’s nearly identical save for replacing the PowerPulse with steady vibration. Maybe simply let the user activate PowerPulse with the button should they choose to. Fun Factory has some toys with a dedicated boost button, and I don’t see why this wouldn’t work here. Perhaps add steady vibration (I’d be okay with a single mode as long as it were the highest strength) to the list of modes.
But if We-Vibe added any settings, they should add a second button to make it easier to cycle through them.
I have to tell you, though, if We-Vibe released the Wish with a few settings that I actually want, I’d be okay with the finicky button. I’d power through it, and that toy might become my new favorite because I absolutely love the strength and depth of the vibrations, the large size for a clitoral toy, the tapered tip, and curved shape, and the plush silicone that surrounds the toy.
It should be clear by now that I am torn over the Wish. Will I keep it and use it? Yes. I expect I’ll have many orgasms with it, and plenty will be fantastic.
But there’s a reason so many sentences, including this one, start with a “but.” It’s inconsistent. I also expect I will have some frustrating masturbation sessions, perhaps some ruined or miserable orgasms.
I’m basically describing an abusive relationship with a sex toy, and no one wants that.
My please to We-Vibe is this: you know what I want. Now give me the option to give you money for it. Please?
Buzz: The Stimulating History of the Sex Toy
$12.99 (Kindle)
from Amazon
A Lover's Pinch: A Cultural History of Sadomasochism
%18.70 (Kindle)
from Amazon
Although there are many books about S&M, most of them focus on the erotic or instructional. This isn’t the case with A Lover’s Pinch: A Cultural History of Sadomasochism, a book by kinkster Peter Tupper. This means that A Lover’s Pinch fills a void, and it dives to depths I couldn’t have imagined before I started reading.
A Lover’s Pinch is a deep dive that goes far beyond Leopold von Sacher-Masoch the Marquis de Sade. Admittedly, I wasn’t expected to read analyses of how religion, war, and slavery impacted our sexualities (and relevant imagery is included on some pages), but the author of this book is not afraid to broach those subjects.
I wouldn’t say that tricky subjects aren’t handled with care within these pages or that it’s un-PC, but the tone is sometimes decidedly frank. If you’re especially religious or still experience trauma from war or slavery, then A Lover’s Pinch might not be a book you wish to pick up (or you may wish to skip those specific chapters).
With this in mind, the book starts with a strong historical tone. The author touche on worldwide (sometimes longstanding) stereotypes of sex and power including the Orient as well as Nazis (and the strange, erotic movies inspired by them). It’s, thorough and interesting to learn but definitely dry and perhaps not applicable to modern kinksters.
I found that A Lover’s Pinch really picked up as Tupper dove into Victorian England’s relationship with sex, one that is similar to that in modern America: both obsessed and prudish. As he analyzes the (not-so) secret kink in this era, describes the lives of specific individuals and introduces the reader to publications that deal with S&M, you really get a feel for how long we’ve been into power exchange in our sex (and lives). Of course, these ongoings are generally fragmented, and there isn’t much to speak of in terms of community.
The reader watches the community come and build together in the 20th century, and this is where I think Tupper does the best at describing how things really were. Yes, some men returned from war, donned leather vests, and continued to live within the structure they’d grown to know in the service by practicing S&M with other men. But the author describes how, for some, the leather community was not one that was sexual.
As the book — and time — progresses, we learn how the kink community overlaps with the gay community and how, slowly but surely, gay women and, eventually, straight people join the S&M community. Tupper discusses some of the better-known groups from across the country and world, including DC’s Black Rose, Janus, and the many gay and lesbian communities that supported — and sometimes opposed — such activities.
I was especially struck by the way that the book describes how some feminists railed against S&M as something that was misogynistic. I learned of similar opposition from feminists to sex toys, especially dildos when I read Buzz.
Tupper’s analysis of gay, lesbian, and straight S&M is important, and he impresses upon the reader how these communities are still separated in ways — and even the division within the leather/gay S&M communities due to an entire generation succumbing to AIDS. If there is a more overarching theme of A Lover’s Pinch, I don’t know what it is. While many people are into S&M, and there are groups in many major cities, it’s still as fragmented as the Android market.
Still, S&M has followed a similar trajectory as homosexuality, first ignored and denied, then pathologized and illegalized, next slowly decriminalized, increasingly understand, and, to some extent, accepted. Tupper skillfully draws the parallel.
It was interesting to see the progression from haphazardly-created communities and risky scenes to planned organizations (and to learn the origin of munches) to the adoption of the “Safe, Sane, Consensual” creed, which was never intended to guide an entire sexual subculture. In some ways, BDSM became commodified alongside these other cultural shifts.
My favorite chapter in this book may have been that on “Alt.sex”. Although I am too young to have used Usenet, I remember the days of HTML-based chatrooms, which may have been my own introduction to BDSM. Tupper discusses the usefulness (and lack thereof) of capitalization conventions and how S&M relationships have existed solely in the online realm. He touches on Gor communities and online roleplaying. I remember many of these things fondly, and while they’re in relatively recent past when it comes to the overall history of S&M (as this book does a good job at pointing out), my own memories from 15-20 years ago seem so long ago.
As the book wraps up, Tupper reveals his own interest in S&M and coming out, and how coming out is different for kinksters than those in the LGBTQIA+ community, especially when it comes to the still-existing ramifications for those who might like their sex on the kinky side. Tupper discusses specific cases as recent as 2001 in which S&M interests left people ostracized and unable to find employment. And this is all despite the strides society has made to accept those who practice consensual S&M.
Finally, the author makes the case that S&M has both expanded sex and brought the idea of consent to the forefront in sexual and nonsexual interactions. He makes a nod to Fifty Shades while arguing that thanks to its popularity, BDSM is more visible than ever but still not part of the mainstream because the story wraps mild kink in a package of acceptable hetero romance. In comparison to this and other pop culture representations, BDSM can much more extreme, and mainstream portrayals still struggle to get it right.
On the other hand, Peter Tupper has worked hard to “get it right” in A Lover’s Pinch. His hard work is noticeable. It’s easy to appreciate the research that went into making this history of sadomasochism.
