A reader pointed me to this article on Salon.com by an author I know and like, Rachel Kramer Bussel. Said reader thought that the topic was relevant to me and my site. Sure. It is.

But then all thoughts of writing up something about what she wrote went out the goddamn window when I made that tragic, tragic error. You know that error. When you read sex-based articles outside of our blogging bubble and actually read the comments:

image courtesy of theoatmeal.com from this comic

And then it all went off track. I actually can heavily relate to a lot of the comic that I’ll be borrowing images from, “Some thoughts and musings about making things for the web“. You see, I thought about leaving a comment. And then I found that I have to have an account on salon.com and log in and frankly, I’m too lazy for that shit half the time. So I read the comments, and immediately regretted it.

Really. Really?? You make assumptions about the writer and THIS is what you assume???

Again. They don’t even read, do they….

I think Willie99 is a straight man who likes vibrating buttplugs and is ashamed to admit it for some reason.

*headdesk

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I know. I asked for it. But Mr. Oatmeal was right.

All of this is why I decided a few weeks ago to turn off commenting on a Youtube video I posted. I made up a clip with some introduction text about the rabbit vibrator scenes years ago from Sex and the City. Holy mother of pearl the COMMENTS. The women that I wanted to pet and take under my wing, who said in all honesty something along the lines that they would like one but their husband/boyfriend won’t let them. To which my inner feminist goes “what do you mean ‘LET’ you??? YOU own your body!!! [insert rage here]”. And the men trolling for fights, saying the things that I don’t have to repeat, you already know.  I know that sites like Salon.com think that having open season on the comments like that increases their traffic and shit. Who knows, maybe it does. But it doesn’t mean people aren’t going to talk about it and link to it. However, it now means that (as depicted above) the experience of just reading the article for itself has been tainted, nay, ruined, for the other people who succumb to comment-reading.

The article in question, after all of this? Oh, it was fine. I have no issue with it. The title does come off a bit misleading but I blame Salon for that, not the author. It’s a little hard for me to be completely unbiased though on the contents of the article simply because the author, and her boyfriend, are acquaintances of mine. Although I have to admit that my go-to reaction is still “Seriously? A vibrator is making him feel insecure? *sigh*”. It’s a touchy subject with me. I usually do try very hard to see both sides and I have done my level best to see it from the jealous person’s point of view. After all, I used to feel the same way about my partner watching porn, years ago. But really it boils down to something that needs to be talked about and worked out, and keep this in mind: The problem lays with the person who thinks that the vibrator is a threat. The problem isn’t the person who wants/needs the vibrator. The problem isn’t the vibrator. Are you (the trolls, not you lovely readers of mine) really going to tell me that I AM A BAD PERSON, or that I am addicted to vibrators, or that I ruined my own clitoris because I rarely can climax without a vibrator???? Yes, I’m sure they will say that and truly think it. But when we judge a person for anything, we usually don’t know their path or their story. Learn their story and go beyond the surface, and you’ll find truths that shame you for your judgment. To judge me for my need of a vibrator is to tell me that my body is broken; I spent years almost never having a clitoral orgasm until I found vibrators. Do you really think I’m not worthy of something as base as an orgasm?