Confessions: Color me satisfied


By Molly Freedenberg

Is it just me, or does the dude screwing a mattress in this photo from Vice look like the lead singer of Gogol Bordello? (Gypsy punk = hot. Defiled dorm beds? Not so much.)

Speaking of sex toys (and just in time for National Masturbation Month), I recently came across this entertaining feature on about favorite teenage sex toy substitutes.

The choices for women weren't particularly surprising, though I can honestly say I've never heard of anyone using a BB gun or of anyone admitting to sexually abusing their cat. But reading about what teenage boys do blew me away. A hole in the mattress? Bologna between the couch cushions? Really? Does anyone really do this? Or is Vice just fucking with me?

Either way, the article got me thinking about my own teenage dalliances into household-objects-as-sex-toy territory. Though I rarely deviated from the tried-and-true method I mentioned earlier this week, I did have a few late-night sessions with long tapered candles (which, I promise, I never returned to the kitchen drawer where I found them) and my thick, mint-green 10-color pen from elementary school (I think I did actually write with it after that -- surely notes to friends that I folded into little triangles and passed in class).

The 10-color pen! So useful at all stages of development!

I never understood the showerhead thing, and never had an electric toothbrush to experiment with. (I was so poor, I had to brush my teeth with non-motorized devices, up hill, both ways...) But the Vice article reminded me of how many different ways people find to get themselves off. So, I asked some of my girl friends what they tried in their teen years.

Turns out some things are fairly universal (if not to me): horseback riding, sitting on a washing machine while it runs, climbing the pole in gym, and playing with vegetables. But some were a revelation to me: One girl played with two fat crayons, sticking one in her vagina and one up her ass. (She didn't remember which colors they were.) Though I'd ventured into writing utensil territory at that point, I don't think I even thought about ass play until I was much older. Points for ingenuity on two fronts!

Another friend used an industrial-sized glue stick, which led to quite the panic when the blue ink used for its logo bled onto her hand (and, in her mind, poisoned her now-indigo vagina). This fascinates me not only scientifically -- did the glue begin to melt? -- but literarily, as that experience later inspired a poem called "Blue Vagina."

The '60s slogan for Crayola was, "They work on brains, not batteries." Can you think of a better tagline for a vibrator alternative?

Perhaps those two are simply my favorites because I've never heard of them before, or because those girls obviously share my proven affection for art supplies. The reason doesn't matter. All I know is that was one interesting article that sparked an even more interesting conversation. I only wish I'd been having it with my girlfriends in high school, so we could've traded our wisdom. I had sooooo many crayons back then...

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