In the years to come, this summer will be known as “The Summer When Quizzical Pussy Did Not Feel Very Well At All, No Indeed.” Through judicious resting, a little feckless judgment, a will of pure petrified gristle, and massive recovery times I’ve been able to get out and do a few very fun things, but for the most part I’ve been in bed. And by “for the most part” I literally mean that if I were to calculate my time spent in bed since June, it would definitely be above 50%, and very possibly into the 70s. This, you may think, supplies a great deal of motive and opportunity to masturbate.
But I find that when my body has so little interest in cooperating with my wish to be a productive member of society, I tend to not want to do nice things for it. My masturbation habits got patchier and more grudging as the summer progressed. Yes, it’s unreasonable to punish my body for having a chronic illness by refusing to give myself orgasms, and I do not under any circumstances advocate trying to control someone with sex or withholding of same, but what can I say? Maybe with all the resentment and everything I’m just not emotionally attracted to me lately.
You can imagine how things have been: the fights, and stony silences, the outlandish threats. This domestic strife is the background to a series of extraordinary events (i.e. orgasms) that led to my clitoris dumping me for the LELO Siri, and I can’t say I half blame it.
NOT actual size.
I’d been wanting to try a LELO toy for some time. They have a reputation for being elegant, clever, and oh-so luxurious. Actually, though, I kind of also think of LELO as the IKEA of the sex toy world: the caps lock, the funny sparse-but-exotic product names (pop quiz: tell me which of these are sex toys and which are furniture: Odda, Noga, Ina, Nea, Agne, Mona, Malma) the simple lines and bright colors. I’ve always been of the opinion that IKEA could be greatly improved by the introduction of clitoral stimulation, so when I saw that Babeland had LELO’s newest creation, the Siri, up for grabs I knew I would at least temporarily lift my masturbation embargo. I’m mad, but I’m not stupid.
Happy the day that Siri graced my front door, dressed in an unassuming brown box and the glamor of youth! If I ever try to convince you that I didn’t rip it open immediately, I’ll be lying to you. Do not trust me.
The LELO Siri comes in a fucking classy series of minimalist boxes, the first of which claims to hold a “Siri pleasure object”. I applaud their decision against going that extra step into pretentiousness by calling it an “objet”. As it is, I’m pleased. And aroused, because I’m a fan of pleasure. It comes with a little satiny drawstring bag, meant, no doubt, to prevent the Siri from ever being stored in a ziplock sandwich bag. Someone must’ve told LELO about my current toys’ accommodations, and they are clearly not impressed.
The Siri itself is cute, shaped like an aerodynamic computer mouse, but smaller. It’s a clit vibe/massager, so in other words you don’t insert it, which happens to fit very well with my usual masturbation style. Roughly one (the white plastic) half is devoted to business and buttons and charging and such. The other half is covered in LELO’s vibrant matte silicone (purple, in mine), and this is the half devoted to business and skin and vibrations and climaxing. As I plugged in my adorable new pleasure object, whose charger took my cell phone charger’s place on the power strip, being of similar size and shape, I mused to myself how advanced-looking the Siri was next to my cellphone, and not just because I drop my phone all the time. I was also immediately grateful that the former had no camera function (although I should probably invent something like that because I’m sure there’s a market). It only took a couple hours to charge, and conveniently tells you when it’s ready by producing a continuous blue LED glow from the button vicinity; it blinks while it’s still charging, and reportedly glows red when it needs juice (although I haven’t experienced that yet, because this thing is a laster). Helpful!
“Realize I’m not doing this for you,” I informed my body as I held the fully-charged Siri over my nethers. “I haven’t even begun to forgive you,” but we agreed to put our differences aside for the moment. This thing was bigger than our ongoing issues.
I turned it on. This was going well. I turned it up a bit. Oh, this was going very well. I kept turning it up, and it kept going up, past the point where I felt sure it would stop. This pleasure object is small, but it’s fierce!
The Siri has four buttons, and even from the dizzying heights of orgasm it isn’t confusing to work them. The plus and minus sign buttons turn it on and off, and coax the intensity up and down. The arrow buttons step through six vibration patterns. I’m not usually a huge pattern person, but some of these were, in a word, compelling. Especially the last one, which when you put it up against your temporomandibular joint sounds like an NES theme song.
I find it easy to grasp and hold onto and adjust in my hand for more focused or more diffused vibrations. This is not a hard toy to work one-handed, which makes it nice if you want to add an insertable to the party.
My clitoris, especially, seemed overjoyed with the experiment. After too many orgasms to count, did my clitoris thank me? Did it thank our friends at Babeland? No. It was all about the Siri. In the days that followed, my clitoris kept pestering me: “When are we going to use the Siri again? Do you think the Siri liked me? Why are we playing a video game when the Siri’s sitting right there? Why are we driving to the doctor’s office when we could be playing with the Siri? We never do what I want to do,” and frequently, “SIRI!” out of nowhere, at any time of the day or night. Bitch woke me up twice.
After a difficult week of zero masturbation mostly unrelated to my tiny, high-maintenance passenger, I brought out the Siri again. I was surprised to find that a) it had held its charge beautifully, and b) there was a note, signed by my clitoris, in that little satiny drawstring bag. The text is as follows:
I burn, I pine, I perish.
No one ever accused my clitoris of being original. Did I ignore the note and go on to use the Siri and have some really stellar orgasms? You know I did.
It wasn’t long before my clitoris notified me that because of my neglect and general unpleasantness in comparison to some, we would remain connected only because of physiological necessity. From this point on, we were not “together”, because it now belonged entirely to my Siri. It also informed me that I look stupid in boyshorts.
Overall, I love the Siri. It’s exactly what I hoped it would be: an easy-to-use, stylish, surprisingly mighty clit vibe. Also, it’s cute as a button and cuter than most actual buttons. The only minor complaints I have against it are:
- It doesn’t cycle through its vibration patterns. That is, you can go up through patterns 1 to 6, and you can go back down again. You can’t easily get from 6 back around to 1. I personally would find it very useful if I could, since pattern 6 is a great buildup and pattern 1 is the steady vibration, which is what really gets me off the most. As it is, the quickest transition seems to be turning the thing off and on.
- This thing is not waterproof. You’re supposed to keep water away from the charging port and buttons. It’s really not that difficult to clean if you take a bit of care, but if you’re a squirter there could be complications, depending on how you’re positioning your Siri and the trajectory of your orgasm.
- It stole my motherfucking clitoris. Homewrecker.
A thousand thanks to Babeland!
