I tried a sex toy Advent calendar and it ruined my sex life
Stop hanging baubles and pay attention to your own
When it comes to Advent Calendars, there are two types of people: those who play by the rules and those who can rarely resist the siren call of the treat behind the cardboard door.
For those of us that caved in and hoovered the chocolate down in shame, a disappointed look from mum was the only thing that awaited us.
But enough nostalgia. In 2021 the capitalist beast has warped calendars into big business, and now every brand from Cadbury to Lego wants a piece of our Christmas cheer.
Some adults may turn to ASOS Grooming Calendar for £40 which includes everything from face masks to shaving cream. Others could opt for Amazon's 12 Days of Chilli’s if they can stomach the fire, and for the boozy bros out there then there's the Craft Beer Advent Calendar from Brewdog.
But there was only one I had in my sight.
You see while juggling the complexities of Christmas, Covid, having a full-time job, and keeping up to date on TikTok- who has the time for casual sex, let alone dating? Not me.
So, in order to add some spice to my life - I turned to an advent calendar stuffed full of sex toys.
Love Honey’s 12 Days of Play is billed as a “fun and frisky” experience, with X-rated goodies like the Hot Shot masturbator and what I can only call a Cowboy bolo-tie. It looked like I would be happily holed up in my room for the entire festive season.
But pleasure doesn’t come cheap. Unlike its chocolate counterparts which are priced at anything from £3.99, this comes in at £90. So is it worth sacrificing grandma’s present to purchase? In the name of good journalism, I sought out the answers.
Here's what I found:
On Day number one, as I peeled back the cardboard door to reveal a description of the product, I unveiled what resembled an overgrown ibuprofen- when in actual fact it was a bullet vibrator.
Claiming to “knock your socks off”, the bullet comes with seven vibrations modes, three speeds, and can be attached to other toys available within the kit.
I need thicker walls:
I soon realised that this endeavour would be more complicated than first expected. I had never considered the volume of some sex toys, having spent most of my teens ordering men to my door like slutty Dominoes. But no one told me that adulting meant having responsibilities, so now hedonistic debauchery is contained only to the weekends.
Within hours my family thought I was doing DIY in my room, which, if you know me, is a ridiculous notion. My parents, in particular, have walked in while just saying knock knock, and there’s only so many times you can say your phone is ringing beneath the covers before eyebrows are raised.
Shocker- the gig was up by day three.
I was by no means hiding my precious calendar, but I also wasn’t doing my best Town Crier impression and announcing why I kept retreating to my room for some ‘alone time’.
My parents have continuously operated on a “what we don’t know can’t hurt us” platform. This year’s Advent choice would be another unspoken truth to be tidied away with that time I locked my phone after trying to access Pornhub at school.
The only direct comment came from mum, who snarkily noted: “Please don’t take all my batteries.”
But jokes on her, they are all rechargeable.
If your friends don't goss about your sex toys, then they aren't your friends:
My friends were another thing entirely. Where my parents wanted to know nothing about my latest project, my friends wanted to know everything.
“What did you get today?” became a daily occurrence. After showcasing my loot from four days worth of treats, including an adjustable cock ring, beaded stroker, and butt plug, my friends were more in-tune to my sexual likes and dislikes than any former fling who believed good sex was just moving forwards and backwards really fast.
“How many cock rings does one person need,” asked one friend, following an image of day five’s prezzie.
Come day six I felt like a Big Brother contestant sobbing in the Diary Room, for in the immortal words of Gemma Collins: “It’s like having a job, working 24/7 for [six] days on the trot.”
Putting them to the test:
Masturbation had almost become chore-like, only this situation created more mess rather than less. But I had to get a grip; after all, I was complaining about what 16-year-old me would have killed for.
Still, in a bid to shake it up a little, I combined my new goodies with every gay’s best frenemie- Grindr. I know I said that casual sex is out at the moment, but sexting doesn’t count.
While my usual chat partners thought it was hot to have a robot involved in the transaction, typing and masturbating became increasingly difficult.
But day 10’s so-called pleasure cards did open new doors. Peeling off the sticky note on my webcam that I used to block the FBI from watching me, I was able to indulge in good old-fashioned video sex.
If you are not riding the video sex train, then you are surely missing out. Not only can it be incredibly hot, but you can hit cancel at any point. That means not awkwardly trying to find clothes when his wife comes home.
However, without a TikTok-style setup complete with ring lights and a tripod, it was hardly the sexiest experience.
It took me way too long to realise my phone had fallen and was showing my partner my designated ‘clutter shelf’ full of books I once thought made me look intelligent while reading on public transport.
Such great works of literature included Homer's Odyssey, the Picture of Dorian Gray, and a Jordan Peterson book I still shamefully own.
The lead-up to the final act had been enjoyable for sure, but it wasn’t until day nine that I really felt (and I mean felt) the Calendar’s value for money.
The Latex Anal Beads combined with the bodacious ibuprofen from day 1 is really only comparable to when the US joined the allied forces in World War 2.
That’s right; I just compared butt stuff to one of the most important historical moments of the 20th century.
Dear Mr Darcy:
By the last day, I kinda missed the chocolate and was about ready to lock away the sordid treasure trove for a much-needed break. But I knew that door number 24 would not let me down.
The Hot Shot male masturbator is the Meryl Streep of sex toys. I found that It’s versatile, always performs to a high standard, and is guaranteed to have you either laughing, crying, or clapping slowly for effect.
So I decided to field test it for scientific purposes, obviously.
Talking of Grindr once more, I came across Chris (*not his real name), who I believe works in hospitality. I didn’t lie, nor did I pretend the encounter would lead to brunch dates and a doggo called Scruff. As expected, Chris jumped at the chance.
But still, the start was a little rocky as neither of us was used to so many things between the sheets. But after some breathing room and some rather intense eye contact, the endeavour proved explosive, to say the least.
In a true Mr Darcy moment, Chris even offered to clean up the toys and put them back in my bag while I was in the toilet. Now I am writing it down I realise he was just trying to get me out of the house as quickly as possible.
While my time with Chris was fun, this experience has only magnified one hard truth. Sex by yourself can be just as, if not more rewarding than sex with another. Sure, there’s no human contact, but that’s kinda the point.
I hear you, serial monogamists, shaking your head at the fact I would rather get jiggy with a robot than a human, but it’s 2021 so why deal with humans if you don’t have to?
Christmas is an undeniably horny time of the year, and yet, a holiday so entrenched in human connection that it leaves you numb when faced with other human beings. Well, I have just solved that and will continue to solve the issue until my wardrobe bursts open and my selection of sex toys floods the floor.
So while Christmas is largely a family-friends holiday, let's not pretend for one second that we aren't all stuffing our stockings and shimmying down chimneys at every available opportunity.
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