With A Little Help From My Friends
Written by Aimee Pham
Illustration by Paige Wang
“Prepare to have your life CHANGED,” my friend Claudia texted me, in response to a screenshot I sent. It was a receipt for the Satisfyer Pro 2, a rose gold, rechargeable, waterproof vibrator that looks similar to a Clarisonic face brush: demure, unintimidating, available at your local Sephora. I was curious and excited but also nervous and embarrassed as I awaited its arrival, obsessively tracking its shipping route so I could stealthily grab the package, open the box alone in my room, and try it out for myself, by myself.
I had never owned a vibrator before the Satisfyer. I didn’t think I needed or even wanted one. I thought my fingers were enough — they had been for the last decade, since I first discovered the wonders of my own touch. But then, a month into quarantine, I was sitting in my bathtub and watching Claudia’s latest YouTube video titled “your sphincter SUCKS.” It opens with a cute flatlay of products, including two Tiffany blue boxes with the capitalized words “TETHER” and “ROMP” on the front. A chipper copyright-free jingle plays over the clip, as an aesthetically pleasing title card “Sex Toys 101” appears on screen.
Then, Claudia walks into frame, looks at the camera, and asks you, me — us viewers — how we’re doing. It feels like we’re just hanging out and catching up about life. Claudia was one of the first friends I made in my freshman year at NYU and one I’ve stayed friends with even after I transferred to USC. She and I are both Leos, which we love to connect over (obviously), and ever since we met as 18-year-old babies, we’ve always had a really honest and open dialogue about everything. I count myself extremely lucky to have a friend like her who I don’t see or talk to all of the time, but know that the next conversation we do have will be just as lovely and enlightening as the last.
When we entered lockdown, Claudia and I started FaceTiming more often. Claudia had told me in August of 2019 how she was thinking about starting a YouTube channel. When quarantine began, she bit the bullet and finally realized her YouTube ambitions. I’d watch all of her videos and give her feedback, while she’d teach me, tell me stories, and give me tips over FaceTime or in her videos about nudes, sex toys, and first times.
Even though Claudia and I are similar in many ways, she’s, well, way more sexually experienced than I am. I’m a virgin, something I don’t really talk about much. I’m not particularly proud of my chastity. I’m 22 years old, which as a college student at a city school known for its thriving social life and sexually active student body, makes me feel simultaneously ancient and childish. I wasn’t raised religious, so there was never any tangible authority figure telling me to save myself for marriage. As a result, I’ve internalized my virginity as my own lack of effort and appeal. I’ve been told for years that I need to “put myself out there more” and maybe I should consider “lowering my standards and expectations” about who I have sex with and the experience itself. There have been instances when I’ve thought about swiping right on a stranger and letting go of my virginity and preconceived notions about it. I’ve entertained this hypothetical but have never acted upon it, simply because that wasn’t my desire — and isn’t that what sex is all about?
I know there’s nothing wrong with never having had sex, nor is there anything wrong with having it. I suppose the paradox of being a woman is that there’s shame if you do it “too much” or “not enough.” When you lean too much on either side of this arbitrary and misogynistic scale, you’re either too slutty or too frigid. Have an “appropriate” amount of sex and come off that you do, but filter the manner by which you talk about it.
Though our world is turning into a more open and sex-positive one — one that questions old-fashioned ideas about sexuality, gender, and the interplay between the two — I personally still feel shy talking about sex and feel especially so talking about self-pleasure. In middle school, when one of my friends remarked that her hands hurt, boys in our class laughed and said it must be because she was masturbating too much. She turned as bright as a tomato, and even though this experience happened over a decade ago, I still remember it vividly, like it was my own.
I experienced minor cognitive dissonance when I decided to buy a vibrator. I thought that, for some reason, you need to have had sex before to own or even want one — like getting a vibrator would practically be me deciding to lose my virginity to an inanimate object. Yet, there objectively isn’t anything incorrect, immoral, or even odd about a virgin buying a vibrator. My search for self-pleasure is a very deliberate, personal choice that doesn’t affect anyone but me and ensures a level of safety and comfort that, in itself, is desirable and pleasurable.
As I watched Claudia enthusiastically endorse her favorite sex toys, I decided to get over my irrational insecurities and said “fuck it,” literally. I eventually let myself look forward to my new gadget and prepare for the life-changing powers that my friend confidently vouched for. Claudia was right. The Satisfyer Pro 2 is a technological wonder that brings me instant joy, and I don’t regret buying it in the slightest. With help from human friends and inanimate ones too, I’ve been able to stay sane and happy during this pandemic. I’ve looked outwardly for comfort and support, letting myself experience the small, immediate joys of cheerful conversation and cheeky consumption.
For so long, I’ve held onto guilt and worry about being overly hedonistic, always questioning if I deserved to want this, worthy to have that. My fears and insecurities have stemmed from the implicit rules of the outside world — a world that makes you aware of your anomalies and flaws and as a result, dictates what your desires can or cannot be. However, by spending more time inside and by myself, I’ve been looking inwardly, learning to accept the ways in which I’m different and being content with who I am and where I’m at. With every day moving forward, I try to overcome any sense of shame or fear of being self-indulgent or selfish, as I actively search for solace in the people and things in my life, and happiness with myself too.
This personal essay is partially about my friend, graphic designer, and aspiring sexologist Claudia. Checkout her YouTube, which I reference in the piece.
