Why does my vibrator keep breaking?
Perhaps those who read about these experiences might discover some previously unnoticed pattern.
A Woman with a Vibrator
At first, I thought the problem lay with me. Was my clitoris made of "diamond"—somehow sharp enough to slice through a silicone vibrator head? Or was I simply applying too much pressure, causing the device to break?
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My vagina is the type that’s "eager to start, yet demands a long wait."
When it comes to sex, I’m a woman of action: I’m articulate, possess a high sex drive, and am not particularly picky about my "prey." The issue, however, is that my clitoris is far more selective. I often tell my porn co-stars, clients, and potential partners that to reach orgasm, I need a level of vibration intensity akin to "a beehive mounted on a lawnmower, all resting on top of a tumble dryer." They usually laugh, but if I fail to climax, they often end up feeling awkward or uneasy.
The truth is, although I became sexually active at 14, I didn’t experience my first orgasm until I was in my twenties. My "savior" was the Hitachi Magic Wand. If you don’t know what that is, take my advice—for your own sake (and that of your partners)—stop reading this article right now and go buy one from the "Good Vibrations" website. Don’t be fooled by cheap knockoffs. If you won’t take sex advice from a "professional slut" like me, then I’m afraid there’s no helping you.
During college, I worked at a feminist sex toy shop called "Sugar." Manufacturers would frequently send us samples to "test out," hoping to land a spot on our product list. Spoiler alert: we almost never accepted them. These rejected products piled up quickly—some reeked of pungent chemicals, others short-circuited right in our hands, and some clearly had never been tested on an actual human being. Instead of tossing them out, we installed shelves on one of our stone walls, creating our very own "Island of Misfit Toys." We even decorated it with ribbons and tinsel—after all, we’re queer through and through (and the *very* "gay" kind, at that).
This wall served as both a graveyard and a local attraction—it even became somewhat "infamous" within our sex-positive circle in Baltimore. Little did I know then that, after moving across the ocean, I would end up creating another "Island of Misfit Toys"—only this time, the "island" was my own damn bed.
For the past five years, my bedroom has become the final resting place for a variety of vibrators.
At first, I assumed the problem was me. Is my clitoris made of diamond, slicing through silicone heads? Am I applying too much pressure, causing them to break? Or perhaps it takes me so long to reach climax that the devices overheat and die before I can even enjoy the pleasure?
It wasn’t until the sixth vibrator bit the dust that it hit me: some force beyond my control was "messing things up"—no pun intended—and sabotaging my orgasms. Determined to figure out what was draining my "life force," I decided to compile a list of these "misfit toys." While I couldn’t spot any obvious pattern myself, perhaps you—the reader—might notice something that has eluded me until now.
The Hitachi Magic Wand. This was the first vibrator that made me shout, "Hallelujah!" I bought it back in 2009 while in San Francisco for an academic exchange. Like many others, I was initially skeptical—and even a bit embarrassed—by its sheer size and weight. It was practically a weapon, and it had to be plugged into a wall outlet to work. There was no way to just toss it into a bag and take it out on the town for a "hookup." Yet, the first time I used it, I reached climax almost instantly, and I was hooked. Before long, I noticed that whenever I pressed my body against it, the noise would intensify, as if it were "working harder." Eventually, the racket became so loud—like a passing tornado, rattling the dishes—that it felt like a genuine threat to my life. Even so, I prioritized reaching climax over my own survival. It wasn't until the violent vibrations began to sputter and cut out that I finally gave up. For the record, the original "Magic Wand" didn't have various "vibration modes"—just "low" (ha—"low"?) and "high."
The "Hitachi Magic Wand" again... I know, I know, but I was still clinging to a fantasy. Maybe I’d just had bad luck and ended up with a dud? Since I didn't have the original receipt to return it, I simply bought a brand-new one. To be fair, this replacement lasted a full year before it started acting up. Coincidentally—much like every Apple product I’ve ever owned—it began to fail right after the warranty expired. This time, the issue was where the power cord met the base; the slightest nudge to the cord would cause the power to cut out. At one point, I was using tape to secure the cord to the handle—at a very specific, awkward angle—just to keep it running. That was the moment I realized I had truly lost my mind.
Still the "Hitachi Magic Wand"... because, at the time, I was in a state of completely absurd denial. After four months of use, sparks actually started flying from the point where the head meets the neck—the kind that could genuinely start a fire! To its credit, though, I immediately tossed it into the trash.
The "Mystic Wand" vibrator.
