I’m writing this review to tell you about a serious loss in my life. An expensive loss. I’ve been grieving.

You see, after I purchased a $129 sex toy from Amazon as a Christmas present to myself, not even six months later, it died an unflattering death, in the midst of what could have been a very satisfying orgasm.

Why am I so bummed about my dead sex toy? Well, for one thing, I write dirty romance novels in my spare time. Writing sex scenes leaves me needy, and sometimes I just need a quick fix before I can continue writing the story.

Other times, I incorporate it into my daily routine. Hunter S. Thompson started the day with cocaine, cigarettes, weed, several pills, a lot of greasy food, and a soak in the Jacuzzi. I start my day with yelling at my kid, coffee, yoga, a climax, and a shower. Next to my trusty Mac, it’s the second most important element in my writer’s toolbox.

As a matter of fact, it sits next to my desk, on top of the standing desk I’m never going to use, next to the other dead things that are never going to come back to life, (a shitty watch and an old Kindle I can’t return). It lies beside my party float beer holders, my carpel tunnel hand putty, and one cashew nut I refuse to throw away because it holds spiritual significance in my life. It’s as important as my backup drives, and my thousands of chargers.

I’ve bonded with readers over this device. That sounds weird, so let me clarify. We share a love of the amazing sucking action. It really is quite explosive, the orgasm with a Womanizer.

In short, it’s always there beside me, waiting for me like an old friend.

Except it’s not old. It’s fucking six months old.

“This toy was as short-term as a real womanizer.”

Know why it’s dead? Because the shitty magnetic charger won’t stay attached and sticks to everything besides the actual clitoral magical device-acal. I’ve charged up a pair of scissors, my desk, my Mac—everything except the damned charger.

I hate that fucking charger. I hate that I spent $129 on a sex toy that has as much stamina as my pre-ejeculatory college boyfriend. (see this video for details.)

No return policy? Of course not. Although, I’m tempted to deliver it to the CEO of your company in a box, unwashed.

So, so, sincerely,

Nicole Archer