One of the main reasons why I try to avoid getting into some personal ish on this blog, is because my stories are more embarassing than funny. You know those memories you recall, even two years later, that still make you cringe and blush?
Yaa I got plenty of those, YOLO.
Today, we’re going to talk about my vibrator.
And how he found his way into my life, and came to be my best friend (jk…?). I know Farrah advocated “Practice Makes Perfect” but for me its not practice anymore, FUCK THAT, its how I deal with not getting any– for a while– and not putting out too quickly. Yeah, I said it– women are like men (clearly if you couldn’t tell from S&F): if men think about sex every 6 seconds, women do every 10 seconds.
A lot of girls dont want to admit how sexual they are, or they havent even realized they are yet- but when they do, it becomes a little tricky. They start dealing with something called a nun-slut complex: you don’t know whether to let the ‘Nun’ in you rule ruthlessly, as it usually does, or let the ‘slut’ run wild.
Trust me, I’ve been there.
ANYWAY, back to my friend. I was always one of those girls that thought masturbation was weird/gross/unnecessary. I, naively, did not even think many girls did it…until I got to college. When I found out the girls in my sorority, that I never thought in a million years would be down with that, actually were…I was fascinated. I still didn’t buy into it initially, but I would hear my best friend’s stories, ‘how it relieved her stress’, how fantasizing was more fulfilling, etc…and I’d think: what would happen if I tried?
After getting an earful for a year, my curiosity peaked…while I was in Iran.
One summer, staying at my grandparents’ house in Tehran, I found myself always alone, bored, and hot.