The Womanizer, and how it didn’t work for me

I had a brief stint in marketing, mostly as an editor but also as a copywriter. I was decent at the latter, I think, but even if I’d kept it up I never would have flourished. It requires a certain overconfidence, even arrogance, that I’m not comfortable faking—in part because I’m not comfortable on the other end of it either. In fact, I despise it.

I’m what my wife calls a brat (in the non-kink term). If I feel like I’m being persuaded too hard to do something, I’ll resist on principle. The easiest way to get me to avoid a piece of media is to tell me I have to watch/read/whatever it. If you actually sit me down and make me consume that media, I’m guaranteed to hate it.

Basically, marketing that consists of “You will love this thing” rhetoric does not appeal to me. Reviews that do the same appeal even less.


So all the hype around the Womanizer Pro put me off the clitoral stimulator right off the bat. With its “revolutionary” Pleasure Air Technology and touchless stimulation of the clit, it’s supposedly a glorious new frontier of toy-aided masturbation.

Respected reviewers raved about it. More than one claimed it would give me the quickest, best orgasm I’d ever have and that even more orgasms would follow in its wake. A lot of reviewers compared it to receiving oral sex.

The last bit should’ve been a tip-off that it wouldn’t work for me. I’m one of the few queer cis women who has never gotten much out of cunnilingus. The only time I can say I truly enjoyed having someone go down on me is when my ex went at my cunt with such voracious sloppiness that I felt like I was being literally eaten—and that was only because I got off on the fantasy cannibalism.

And therein is the reason I hate and rebel at arrogant “You will love this” sort of statements: there is always someone who won’t love it. And if that person is like me, they will always feel like something is wrong with them for not loving it, even if they know logically it isn’t true.

I was intrigued by the Womanizer. Even for a so-called brat like me, when so many people are raving about something, it’s hard not to be intrigued. A few sex workers on my Twitter feed were so in love with the toy that they were buying it for their friends—and it was this that pushed me from just intrigued to “I want it.” The difference between getting caught up in other people’s enthusiasm and feeling like something is being forced on me is subtle but significant.

So when the Womanizer Pro was marked down on some online retailer for Black Friday in 2017, I bought one. I tried it out. I didn’t get the hype, at all. I couldn’t orgasm from it.

I often don’t get the hype of a sex toy on the first try, though. With my drastic change of opinion on the Hitachi in mind, I kept trying.

And trying.

And trying.

More than a year later, I feel pretty confident saying the Womanizer just isn’t for me. I can orgasm from it, as long as a) I have something inside stimulating my G-spot and b) some part of my clit is in contact with the silicone head (i.e., I’m getting off on the subtle vibrations from the motor, not the suction as intended).

It’s unfortunate—especially since, even with the sale, the thing was damn expensive—and even though I know that’s just how life is, that’s just how human bodies are, it’s tempting to feel defective because of it. Or at the very least to feel like I’m missing out on something that could be amazing.

Tempting, but pointless.

So for all the other lovely people out there who were disappointed by the Womanizer, who felt left out of the hype, who have ever been made to feel defective for their sexual responses or lack thereof—this is for you. You are not alone.

One thought on “The Womanizer, and how it didn’t work for me

  1. Pingback: My top ten ride-or-die sex toys – Rosy Appetites

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