Girl Talk: Why I’m Buying My Mom A Vibrator For Christmas

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As any blogger who writes about sex will tell you, we get a lot of “gifts.” When I say “gifts,” I actually mean sex toys to test out in the hopes we’ll write about them later. If you saw my “special” drawer next to my bed, you’d see that it’s full of a variety of dildos, vibrators, anal plugs, vegan lubes, flavored lubes, handcuffs, a bamboo paddle and even a pair of nipple clamps.

While some of these items still remain in their boxes (pun!) untouched, others have been opened and hugely appreciated by either myself or the person with whom I’m sharing my bed. At one time, I had so many vibrators (new and unopened), that I just kept them on my kitchen table and would let my friends take whatever they wanted. Seriously. What does one woman, with only two orifices need with all that stuff? (I say two, because I’ve never been one to put a vibrator in my mouth – just not my thing.)

I love sex. I love masturbation. I love orgasms. Whether I give them to myself or someone is kind enough to do so for me while I lay back, my knees shaking and I’m biting my tongue so I don’t scream out, “I love you!” because the feeling is so amazing that you’re quite sure in that moment you could actually love that person forever, orgasms are my friend. I couldn’t live without my friends.

I also firmly believe that everyone who has a pulse, despite what their religion or archaic morals may try to tell them, should masturbate. I would support a law that would advocate it and I’d angrily debate anyone who knocks it – even my mom.

My mom is Catholic, and apparently, seriously devoted Catholics do not masturbate – ever. It could be a life or death situation, and they won’t do it. Why? Because God says it’s bad, you’ll grow hairy palms, your clit will rot right the fuck off and eventually you’ll go blind. You’ll probably die, too, because it’s that awful of a plague. Masturbation is just as evil as murder, you guys. Or at least this is was any religious fanatic will tell you, as it has been dictated to them.

According to my mother, she has never masturbated. Never ever. I realize that for some, the mere thought of even having such a discussion with your mother is terrifying, but before you get completely weirded out, let me just explain that it took a long time for my sister and I to get my mother to this point where sex-related topics were acceptable to discuss with her.

After being married to my father – the staunch atheist – for over 30 years, my mother has loosened up a bit. But still, that Catholic guilt that was inflicted upon her through years of Catholic school and an upbringing that was steeped in believing the Bible is the word of God, there are still things that make my mother squirm. My mother doesn’t want to know that the chef I fucked the other night gave me one of the best orgasms of my life or the lessons I learned at Babeland’s blowjob class, but she does. She does because I write about sex and she reads what I write.

Not to get into my parents’ sex life, because that something even I don’t need to know, my mother has, on a few occasions, admitted to my sister that things aren’t exactly what they used to be. She doesn’t get into the same gruesome details that my sister and I would, but what it comes down to is that orgasms just aren’t happening with the fervor they once did.

When she initially made this confession a few years ago, my sister and I both joked that we’d get her a vibrator for Christmas. She scoffed at even the mention of it: “That’s disgusting! Just because you two masturbate, doesn’t mean I ever will. If you get me one, I’ll never use it. I’ll throw it out.” She then used the word “disgusting” a few more times, so we decided that maybe what she really needed was a thesaurus for Christmas instead.

But this year, I’m going to do it. Yes, I’m going to buy my mother her very first vibrator.

For starters, she deserves it. She puts up with a lot (she does have me as a daughter, after all), and other daily bullshit that could be taken down a notch with the release that comes with an orgasm. Secondly, maybe it will spice up my parents’ sex life. Again, that’s something I don’t need to know about, but still, “Yay them!” if that happens to be the case. Lastly, and most importantly, I want my mother to embrace her sexuality.

Despite having come of age in ’60s and ’70s, my mother never got the whole “women’s lib” thing. It’s not that she didn’t care, but she wasn’t on the front lines of it and I think, a lot of that had to do with her conservative upbringing. The woman I know as my mother now is far more feminist, open and liberal than the woman she was in her 20s – even she admits this, and thanks my sister and I for it.

So if that’s the case, Mom, why can’t we get this anti-masturbation thing under control and just go for it? You don’t have to admit you use the vibrator I’m going to get you, but at least unwrap it, take it to your room and stare at it for a few hours. Mull it over, weigh the pros and cons (what cons?) and just accept the gift that keeps on giving. Masturbation is good. Orgasms are your friends. And as I said, you can’t live without friends.

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