FemmeFunn Diamond Wand Vibrator

December 9th, 2018

The FemmeFunn Diamond Wand Vibrator is not the vibrator you reach for when you want to feel full, stretched impossibly. This vibrator won’t give you the satisfaction of overcoming a seemingly impossible obstacle.

Nor is the Diamond Wand the toy you want for intense textural stimulation, even though the diamond texture is visible on the shaft.

And if you want firm clitoral pressure while using this vibrator externally, you’ll likely be disappointed with it.

This isn’t a toy that’s long enough to use for A-spot stimulation (there are 6 insertable inches, but you’re going to have to sacrifice some of this if you want to actually hold the toy), and I cannot recommend it for safe anal play.

The Diamond Wand wasn’t made for precise movement, either.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. This isn’t a high note to start a review on, and you’d be correct in that thinking. However, it’s my way of explaining that while the FemmeFunn Diamond Wand might not good at everything, it could be good at something.

I realize this is a departure for my usual review style. It’s not that I want a toy that’s capable of stimulating my G-spot, clitoris, nipples, perineum, or ass whenever I choose. I know that sometimes trying to do too much leads to a toy’s downfall, much like GVibe 2, but I also look for a toy to have the capacity to work in multiple ways in case I don’t love using it in a specific way, perhaps the most obvious use of the toy.

This brings me to the FemmeFunn Diamond Wand, At first use, it was underwhelming. While the toy has a contoured head, there’s no curve to the shaft. The shaft, while flexible, is too narrow to warrant a second thought. And while I anticipated feeling something from the texture of the toy, I just didn’t.

One upside is that the vibrations were reasonably strong and not overly buzzy.

To be honest, I put the FemmeFunn Diamond Wand away for months before I picked it up again. It was just one of those toys that had let me down upon my first experience, and I wasn’t thrilled to try it again.

I am one of the people for whom first impressions matter a lot. If I don’t like a toy off the bat, I will probably never like it. That’s just how it goes.

So imagine my surprise when I finally picked up the Diamond Wand again and felt my mind change little by little.

The first thing I realized was that the tapered head of the vibrator was ideal for the first time I’d been interested in penetration in months. It was easy and comfortable. A point for the Diamond Wand.

And while the narrow, flexible shaft may not have been great for pressure or precise moments, I could bend the toy enough for G-spot stimulation. There’s enough resistance that I cannot call it “floppy.” And it works.

I even forgave this vibrator for not being thrustable because I tend to stroke my G-spot more slowly. Being able to bend the shaft provided me enough G-spot stimulation to squirt with ease — and a surprising amount of force.

This vibrator is surprisingly powerful for its large size, and the lowest setting isn’t entirely buzzy. Unfortunately, the buzz increases almost exponentially as you increase press the single button on the base to cycle through the three steady vibration modes.

If you can get over the buzz, the pulsations are backed by impressive oomph. In fact, as I hold the Diamond Wand in my hand and shift through settings, the vibration makes the toy turn over in my hand.

The 20 modes of vibration are probably overkill. There are 17 levels alone of pulsation or escalation, which includes fast and slow pulses, flutters, and waves. At first, I thought the vibrator turned on to the last-used setting, but there’s actually a random pulsation before the three levels of steady vibration. It takes an inordinate amount of time to cycle through all three. And although most people probably aren’t doing that during routine use, I think if manufacturers are going to have that many vibration modes, then a second button is a must. I would rather make the argument that no toy really needs 20 settings, however.

So where does this leave us? The Diamond Wand serves a limited function but one that’s useful enough for me to keep it around. I would be remiss if I didn’t recommend this toy for those who like pinpoint clitoral stimulation. It doesn’t give me the pressure I need, but if you don’t mind slight buzziness, it’s quite powerful.

I also want to mention that the USB cable that the Diamond Wand comes with is nearly identical to that of a few other toys I own, so keep it separated or labeled to save yourself the hassle.

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November 2018 Media Recommendations

November 28th, 2018

The last month has really flown by. I feel like I was just writing last month’s media recommendations. Yet, I’m unsure exactly what I’ve done since then. It hasn’t been writing reviews.

Nor did I watch anything to include in this month’s recommendations. I’ve been reading — but no books I haven’t already mentioned. I did listen to some fantastic podcasts this month, however.

I’ll hopefully return next month with a few more book recommendations and the list won’t be quite so short. This also means a couple of upcoming book reviews!

In the meantime, I put out a call on Twitter for more podcast recommendations. I’m familiar with about a dozen, several of which I regularly listen to, but I’d love to know what my readers are listening to and why they think I might enjoy it.

 

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Science of Sex: Arousal, Disgust, and Decision Making

November 24th, 2018

Welcome to November’s issue of Science of Sex, wherein I tackle issues about human sexuality. Why do we do that? How do we know? This month, I discuss another issue related to arousal (although I’ve barely scratched the surface, it seems) and what happens when the arousal cycle ends.

I hope you enjoy this article, and if you’re interested in more, check out the Science of Sex archives.

science of sex - arousal disgust decision making

Initially, I was just going to write about the interplay between arousal and disgust, but sexual arousal affects so many of our systems — especially cognitive ability.

If you’ve given a thought to how being aroused affects your thinking process, you’ve probably realized how easy it is to make poor decisions when aroused. Anecdotally, I have risked my sexual health by not using condoms, but foregoing protection and birth control is only one example of this risk. Arousal might lead you to have sex with someone who is a bad choice (an ex, a friend, someone with whom romantic feelings are unbalanced, etc). Disgust plays a role in why most people don’t have sex with family members; although, Science of Sex: Genetic Sexual Attractionsome people do.

Studies have even found that a woman’s attractiveness can influence whether a man chooses to use a condom during sexual activity with her.

Less obvious and perhaps more indirectly related to cognitive ability is how arousal seems to lower disgust, at least, in some individuals. Researchers theorize that disgust evolved as a way to keep us away from potentially dangerous things. So humans developed aversions to things that are dirty and “yucky,” such as fecal matter, bodily fluids (urine, blood, semen etc), and even actual dirty in our environment. It makes sense that arousal would inhibit disgust because sex involves precisely some of those things.

This interplay explains why you might be more open to the idea of a certain sexual activity, say, anal sex, once you’re already aroused than you would be “cold.”

You might even notice disgust returned once the arousal cycle has completed, either through orgasm or simply subsiding over time. This can manifest as disgust or guilt toward yourself or partners after sex. If you’ve ever found yourself completely disinterested in any sexual activity, then you know what I mean. As you’re frantically closing every browser tab once you’ve finished masturbating because you cannot stand to see it, you’re experiencing the return of disgust.

At least one study finds that this isn’t the case with women. This could perhaps be due to arousal non-concordance: a woman’s mental and physical arousal is typically less in sync than a man’s. The canceling out of disgust when aroused that men experienced could simply be an effect of their higher levels of arousal concordance.

Arousal continues to affect our system in other ways, too. Sexual arousal is often accompanied with the promise of sexual gratification through either solo or partnered activity. Dopamine receptors activate when aroused, which is one reason sexual tension can feel so good. The promise of sexual reward can also encourage poor decision making. The drain of dopamine and hormones after your arousal cycle completes can also contribute to negative post-masturbation or post-sex feelings.

This is also related to post-sex blues (described as postcoital dysphoria in research), something that women experience more frequently than men. As hormones decrease in your body after a sexual experience, you might feel down even if the sexual encounter was enjoyable.

I suspect that arousal inhibits or overrides a number of feelings and responses that we either don’t yet know about or understand, and I look forward to telling my readers about them in a later post.

Further Reading

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Why I Don’t Tell People I’m a Sex Educator (Even Though I Should)

November 16th, 2018

It’s only been this year that I have come around to calling myself a sex educator. I am late in the game compared to some of my fellow bloggers and authors, perhaps because I failed to see how this hobby could become a legitimate career for anyone. Before this, I would describe myself as a freelance writer who often, but not always, wrote about sex. While this isn’t wrong, it’s not the complete picture. I compartmentalized the work I am paid for and the words I write on this blog, despite much of it being about sex and despite that some of my working relationships originated because of this blog.

It’s 2018, I have been writing about sex, toys, and relationships in this blog for over a decade, and I have finally accepted myself as a sex educator. Yet, I am still hesitant to be upfront about what I do for work.

When people ask about my job as a writer, I usually gloss over the specifics. The reasons are twofold and while explaining how copywriting on the Internet works and reassuring people that, yes, you can get paid for that, the bigger hangup I have is that I so often write about sex. It’s not my own shame that prevents me from answering honestly; although, others sometimes respond in that manner, which I’ll touch on later.

No, it’s the response, almost always from straight men. It’s the assumption that any mention of sex, no matter how intellectual or removed from my own preferences, is viewed by these people as an invitation to pry into my personal sex life. Specifically, these men want to know if my interest in writing about sex, which must be spurred by a personal interest in sex, will lead me to sleep with them.

Then comes the question. To be fair, it’s not exactly one question. It’s simply the type of question that follows what was previously a non-sexual discussion. The question often pries into whether it’s my sexual interest that inspired me to write about sex. Of course, this is the case for me and plenty of other sex educators. I know this. You, my readers, know this. But that’s not the point.  People will take any mention of sex as an invitation to ask invasive questions or as a segue to discussing sex with them.

Let me make it clear: just because I talk about sex for my job doesn’t mean I want to talk about my personal sex life with you.

Sex coach and erotica writer Stella Harris discussed this briefly in an episode of American Sex about sexual communication. Stella, like myself, is a sex educator. Ms. Harris mentioned how disheartening it can be when these discussions happen because people may be so starved of any opportunity to discuss sex or because they “conflate the job with the person,” losing the decorum people usually abide by. I immediately knew what Ms. Harris meant when she said this about interactions with female-presenting people who are sex educators:

gives them license to be overly intimate right away

Although I would never classify myself as highly as someone who is certified as a sex coach, I have come to realize how valuable it is for as many people as possible to discuss sex in a positive and healthy way. In doing so, I have “invited” some of the same unwanted attention that Stella Harris discussed. And it’s not fun.

I write about sex and may be willing to talk about sex intellectually and hypothetically with you, but I don’t want to talk about my own sex life or my preferences. This is not an invitation for a man to fish to see if I might be willing to sleep with him and, dear god, I certainly don’t want dick pics from anyone with whom I have not already established a sexual rapport.

I do not want my personal space, safety or comfort invaded in the way that men so often do when the subject comes up. Yet they continue to fail to see how inappropriate their questions are.

While I have thus far focused on my interactions with men, I’ve noticed a different trend in some people when I reveal what I do for a living. Instead of creeping on me, they respond with coquettish giggles or hushed whispers. I realize both of these responses are due to society not discussing sex often or positively enough, in part because I was once guilty of the same behavior. Sometimes people are so starved for discussions about sex that they act giddy because it’s oh-so-naughty to do so. But there’s a place for knowing winks among friends, and it’s usually not when I am in sex-educator mode.

There’s no doubt that sex is concomitantly on display and hidden away in American culture. Those people who want to talk to sex may resort to hushed tones because they have never been taught how. And others may respond with shame because they have been taught that sex is something we don’t speak about.

That ties into how men react when they find out that I’m a sex educator. No matter the response, it’s based in the way that sex is shrouded. The response I often receive when people learn that I am a sex educator devalue the work I do because society devalues sex.

People probably don’t mean it, but because they don’t see sex as something that should be talked about, let alone something that needs to be discussed, they respond with giggles or jump straight to intimacy that is unearned. It’s not their fault if they’ve never been taught anything else.

Truthfully, this makes educating people about sex all the more important because they don’t treat the subject with the respect it deserves. They haven’t realized how significant sex can be to a satisfying life let alone a relationship. They fail to understand that an inability to discuss sex with partners leads to orgasm inequality, breeding resentment, boredom, and potentially cheating. People have yet to learn the basics of anatomy, physiology, and psychology that play very real roles in the sex they have — or don’t have. And this dearth of knowledge leads to risky sexual decisions including those that sometimes lead to sex.

The fact that some people try to change the subject or hem and haw over my job as a sex educator and others try to force themselves into my sex life when they realize that I write about sex means I need to keep talking about it. I’ve read the comments and emails from readers whose sex lives have somehow improved after reading my work, and I know there are people who have yet to stumble upon the information that will transform them and their understanding of sex, even if the information is presented by someone else.

I’ve stated that we don’t talk about sex often or correctly enough so many times that it might as well be my mantra, but it’s sadly as true today as it was when I started this blog a decade ago, and the interactions that follow after I explain to people that I am a sex educator prove it. I will continue to use myself as an example and continue to educate about sex, even if it leaves me open to inappropriate comments because I know how valuable sex education is — always will be. 

If I, and others like me, keep talking about sex, we may eventually see a world where people make smarter decisions about sex and more fully experience their sexualities and, perhaps, when someone reveals to another person that they are a sex educator, their audience will respond with, “Wow! I respect what you do.”

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Science of Sex: Why Do Genitals Look Like That?

October 27th, 2018

In this installment of Science of Sex, we take a look at why genitals look the way they do. Surprise: it’s for reproduction. Keep reading if you want to learn a bit more, however.

Originally I was just going to focus on testicles, which are surprisingly more interesting than I had been lead to believe. However, I couldn’t help myself from going down the rabbit hole and touching on other genitals.

Note: The language in this post is cisnormative because I am focusing on reproduction alone.

science of sex - why genitals look that way

Testicles and ovaries are the two types of gonads or reproductive organs; although, the scrotum is more analogous to the labia. Both split down the middle, and the scrotum even has a “seam.”

Anyone who has seen a certain Seinfeld episode is familiar with shrinkage, which occurs when the body is cold, and the genitals retract closer to the body. It’s the cremasteric muscle that’s responsible for pulling in the testicle.

The muscle doesn’t just pull the testicles up and down. Each testicle has its own orbit, so they’ll hang unevenly. Apparently, the right testicle usually hangs higher than the left. Some suggest that this is also a defense mechanism should one testicle become harmed; the other may remain safe. But anatomist Stany Lobo suggests that testicular orbit maximizes space for each testicle, allowing it to remain cool enough.

The current theory is that testicles and the sperm inside them remain slightly cooler than the man’s body by about 3 degrees Celsius (cooler temperatures at night lead to descended scrotums, which may play into why humans so often have sex after dark), but the heat of a woman’s vagina and uterus reactivates the sperm, which are able to survive at those temperatures for the amount of time it would take to fertilize an egg (approximately 50 minutes to 4 hours). Voila!

As best as we can tell, the comparatively-large human penis is designed mostly for pleasure. A larger penis may attract and keep more mates.

The shape of the penis also aids conception. The large, contoured head acts a bit like a shovel as it thrusts into a vagina. This doesn’t necessarily benefit conception by a man’s sperm, but it does displace sperm for any previous partners a woman may have had. A larger corona and more vigorous thrusting can also increase the sperm-displacing effect.

The refractory period prevents a male from re-entering his partner and displacing his own sperm, aiding the continuation of his lineage.

The vagina and uterus are obviously shaped for penile penetration. However, the position of the organs aids reproduction in another way. Before our ancestors walking upright, the uterus tilted to aid “doggy” style sex. When our ancestors did become bipedal, the uterus tilted. One theory posits that to aid face-to-face sex, female lips became more pronounced and darkened in color (mimicking her labia) to attract a mate. I imagine those same characteristics attracted mates to female partners, especially when swollen and darkened due to arousal.

Interestingly, I have yet to come across a lot of information about the shape of the vulva. Perhaps the penis does most of the work when it comes to reproduction. And researchers have yet to come to a conclusion on whether female orgasm aids or hinders conception.

Like the foreskin protects the glans, clitoral foreskin protects the clitoral shaft (which extends deep below the surface). The labia also provide protection for the vagina, which is further protected by the hymen, stretchy tissue around the vaginal opening that can sometimes cover it.

The vagina itself balloons outward during arousal, a process known as vaginal tenting, that makes intercourse easier. The elongation of the vagina reduces penile impact against the cervix, which many women find uncomfortable or painful. No one wants to reproduce if it hurts, after all.

It’s interesting that despite all these adaptations, sex can still be so uncomfortable, especially for women. But perhaps nature’s focus on reproduction is why issues of pleasure, comfort, and connection are so often overlooked.

Further Reading

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October 2018 Media Recommendations

October 26th, 2018

October has flown by, and part of what has occupied my time is a lot of media consumption, so I have some recommendations if you want to do some learning about sex.

Reading

I just started reading Why Is the Penis Shaped Like That?: And Other Reflections on Being Human because I figured I might as well take advantage of the Scribd membership that I pay for. I, and I suspect many of my readers, know why the penis is shaped why it is (or, at the very least, the current scientific theory). But the book tackles other subjects about human sexuality and is rather entertaining. I’m not very far, but I’ve learned some interesting about (cis) male bodies that sex education/health classes failed to teach. Surprise!

Listening

  • As soon as I heard the broadcast of “No” by Kaitlin Prest as part of Radiolab’s 3-part series called In the No, I knew I would at it to this list. Last year, Kaitlin produced this powerful show about rape culture, consent, and coercion. The first part is incredibly provocative, nearly leaving me breathless. I would listen with caution if you are a survivor of sexual assault. It was hard to listen to even though I have not had those experiences, and part of the show contains actual recordings. If you’re not willing to wait for the rest of the episodes on Radiolab, you can listen to them on Kaitlin’s podcast Heart. The followup episode focuses on educating offenders while the last episode analyzes why people may not be able to say “No” when they want sex as well as issues with consent within the BDSM community, which is often lauded for its consent-driven model.
  • I’ve also been listening to a lot of American Sex Podcast. The episodes on sociology, communication, and melanistic kink were all home runs for me.

Watching

This month’s visual recommendations are both on Netflix.

  • The first recommendation is Adam Ruins Everything’s sex episode, which tackles the hymen, herpes, and more. The hymen episode may be the first Adam Ruins Everything show I ran into, and Netflix has curated it along with some episodes. I’ve always found the series and host engaging, but I don’t do a lot of Youtube, so I haven’t watched much of it.
  • My second recommendation is a series called Christiane Amanpour: Sex & Love Around the World. I was not previously familiar with Christiane Amanpour, who apparently works for CNN. In this series, she travels to different countries around the world and talks to citizens about their opinions on love and sex. It starts in Japan, which I found particularly interesting because of the cultural emphasis on community. This is something a bit foreign to me as an American. I am not very far into the series but definitely find it interesting. My biggest critique is that because each location is only covered in a single episode and the topics of sex and love are so broad that it barely scratches the surface.

I’ve just finished two books that were dominating my time, so I’ll be able to catch up on the two books I started last month and finally get the reviews written (along with a few others!).

Got any recommendations? Leave ’em in the commentd!

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When Good Guys Aren’t Good Enough

October 9th, 2018

Today’s post is about guilt and fear, two vulnerable subjects that I sometimes experience in a specific way as a single person.

I am sure we’re all familiar with the process of meeting a new person. If you’re open to new romantic or sexual partners like I am, you’ll ponder a person. Then, their availability, personality, and compatibility determine whether you might move forward or not.

This thought occurs to me whenever I meet a new, single guy, and occasionally with women. Sometimes the thought is more fleeting than others, but I would be lying if I said it’s not there.

More often than not, I am not physically attracted to a person. It’s a rarity in my hometown, where attractive ratings tend to skew low. Often, I find myself considering if the positive aspects of a person’s personality are enough for me to “settle” with someone if I am not really attracted to them. I have only once found this to be the case. Although, I have sometimes waffled because someone did possess some impressive personality traits. More often than not, these people are interesting and kind. I am more than happy to be their friends. If someone else was writing this, they might accuse me of putting them in the “friend zone.”

Truthfully, I find myself calling these people “good guys.” I say this because it typically occurs with men, but I would think of a woman much the same. I enjoy their presence in my life, but I just don’t feel like we’d achieve a level of compatibility — either sexually or romantically — that would make it worth trying. When describing these people, I’d laud their positive qualities. I have recently described a new friend as a “good guy” and one who “makes people feel good about themselves.”

But even though I know the friend zone is a bullshit concept and my hackles raise when any person treats me as a vending machine that should dispense sexual or romantic attraction when anyone drops a kindness coin into a slot, I still feel guilt. It’s not guilt caused by that person, at least, not directly. It’s just a general sort of guilt that there is a very good person who I have deemed not good enough to date or fool around or sleep with. And if I am so quick to point out their positives, why am I so reluctant to give them a shot?

It’s more than that, however. The guilt is tinged with fear, the fear that this might be the last “good guy” whom I ever meet. Or the fear that a “good” person who has expressed interest might be the last person who will be interested in me. Who knows when the next person will show up? Or if I will ever be interested in someone again.

And while I know that the reality is I will keep meeting people for the rest of my life and the people who are interested in me and the people in whom I am interested might overlap in a Venn diagram that leads to exploring our sexualities or emotions (or both) together, that fear creeps in on the coattails of consideration whenever someone pops up on my radar. It only makes me feel more guilty.

I am sure I am not alone just as I am sure that some people rarely give credence to such irrational fear and guilt. Still, it’s a mantle that weighs heavy and has been difficult to remove and one that has been ever-present in 2018, a year in which I have been in this precise situation several times. At the end of the day, the fears of settling for the wrong person, misery, and mediocrity are certainly stronger than any guilt I feel over not choosing someone who is good but perhaps not good for me. But wondering thoughts still make their presence from time to time.

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