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I suppose I could have steered him in a completely different direction, but that seemed pointless and cruel.
He wanted a vibrator, he told me, as his wife had a hard time getting interested in sex. Fingers poised over the keys, I was set to launch into a litany of questions so as to narrow down exactly which sort of vibe they might find attractive, but his next message popped onto the screen before I could start.
She’d been experiencing a very dry vagina, he told me, ever since she began menopause — some fifteen years ago. Because of that, they’d not had sex in a very, very long time.
I let him type on. Price would not be important, he said, if only he could find something that would work, but he’d struck out with all the other vibrators he’d tried to introduce to his wife in the past. He was hoping that I could suggest some “better” vibe that would entice his wife.
Fifteen years of menopausal dry vagina, a toy box full of vibes which had failed to produce results, no sex for a long time, and he wanted a solution. From me.
This is the sort of contact that worries my brain the most. It worries me more than the contacts from dudes who want me to cyber with them, or explain to them in prurient detail how to use a male masturbator, or baby-step them through pegging.
It worries me more than people who are cranky because a credit card was declined, or churlish because a toy died an untimely death, or crestfallen because a love doll can’t be delivered before the weekend.
It’s the sort of contact that worries me because I feel his pain, even through a sketchy internet connection. Or, you know, maybe I’m just projecting. I’ve certainly been there, in the place where nothing you do brings any change in a sexual dynamic that’s built up over months and years, and where every suggestion is met by blazing disdain or frosty indifference.
So when he asked me for the latest in vibratory technology, I just couldn’t give it to him. I suggested a cheap but infallibly effective vibe and some really good lubes. I all but demanded that they consult a doctor for other alternatives, alternatives that would have been inappropriate for a mere toy rep to mention.
But he told me that she didn’t like using lube because it made her “feel old.” She wouldn’t speak to her doctor because this was a “private matter.” She refused to consider prescription or non-prescription menopausal remedies because they “weren’t natural.”
Then give up, I wanted to tell the man (but didn’t). Cease your efforts. You are wasting your time and hers.
Sounds harsh, but it might have been the kindest thing he could have heard.




