Are there double standards around men and women's sexualities? How true is this in Ghana and Africa? Why do men cheat? Why do women cheat? How does society respond when a man cheats? How is this response different when a woman cheats? Just a few of the questions I have posed on my fellow blogger's Ms Cleland's site at http://maameous.blogspot.com/
Let me know your thoughts
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
On the subject of Virgins and Virginity
The recent conversations on visits to the Ob/Gyn have somehow led to the subject of virginity and associated issues such as, who is a virgin? Someone who has never had sex? Someone whose hymen is intact (that somehow implies the “someone” is female)? In this day and age we also have “born again virgins”.
Somehow when I think of virginity I think of women. The impression I got growing up was that you needed to stay a virgin for as long as possible, preferably until you got married. For a woman to be a virgin was/is a good thing but for guys it’s a very bad thing. I don’t know any woman who will want to date a (male) virgin for example. Is that the same for men? Somehow I doubt so?
I remember in my early 20s there was this older man I fancied (and he clearly also fancied me) but he refused to go all the way because I was a virgin. On one hand it may seem he was being chivalrous, but on the other hand I think he felt if he had sex with me then he would need to have a proper relationship with me. In hindsight he probably fancied me but was not “that into me”. I guess he did the right thing after all.
What are your thoughts?
Somehow when I think of virginity I think of women. The impression I got growing up was that you needed to stay a virgin for as long as possible, preferably until you got married. For a woman to be a virgin was/is a good thing but for guys it’s a very bad thing. I don’t know any woman who will want to date a (male) virgin for example. Is that the same for men? Somehow I doubt so?
I remember in my early 20s there was this older man I fancied (and he clearly also fancied me) but he refused to go all the way because I was a virgin. On one hand it may seem he was being chivalrous, but on the other hand I think he felt if he had sex with me then he would need to have a proper relationship with me. In hindsight he probably fancied me but was not “that into me”. I guess he did the right thing after all.
What are your thoughts?
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Your contribution to a "Reader on African Sexualities"
If you are a regular reader of this blog you will know that I like to look at African women's sexualities in all its diversityand breadth. I recently found out that Dr Sylvia Tamale based at Makerere University is compiling a reader on African women's sexualities. Do read her call for information below and please put your experience in the comments box to contribute to this important piece of research:
"I'm collecting diverse experiences that African women have had regarding their reproductive health/care. I think it's important to document them, ranging from the most shocking to the most pleasant. I believe that it'll be empowering to share such experiences and knowledge by publishing some of them in the "Reader on African Sexualities" that I am editing. This idea was triggered by my recent encounter with a rather impersonal and cold gynecologist where I'd gone for a routine pap smear. She asked, "Are you ready for the ORDEAL?!" Later, when I was undressing she, together with the nurse, held up a white sheet to "offer me some privacy." Not seeing the logic in hiding my nakedness from people for whom I was going to bear my most 'private' body parts under the glare of a spotlight, I asked them to put down the sheet. However, the doctor insisted on holding it up arguing that it was their "usual practice." When I told this story to a friend, she herself had several gyn/ob stories to tell, including the one who told her (as she lay on his hard examination bed with her thighs open), "Oh did you know you had grey hair?!" I am therefore inviting you to share some of your most dreadful (for some not so dreadful, even pleasant) Ob/Gyn visits stories. We've all been there for various reasons... prenatal & postnatal care, delivery, pap> smears, routine check-ups, IUD insertion & birth control advice, abortion,hymen reconstruction, artificial reproductive techniques, menopause management, Hysterectomy, Cosmetic Surgery, sexual advice, STD Diagnosis & Treatment, Abnormal Bleeding, Fibroid treatment, etc, etc, etc.Confidentiality will of course be observed if requested.
Dr Sylvia Tamale, Makerere University"
"I'm collecting diverse experiences that African women have had regarding their reproductive health/care. I think it's important to document them, ranging from the most shocking to the most pleasant. I believe that it'll be empowering to share such experiences and knowledge by publishing some of them in the "Reader on African Sexualities" that I am editing. This idea was triggered by my recent encounter with a rather impersonal and cold gynecologist where I'd gone for a routine pap smear. She asked, "Are you ready for the ORDEAL?!" Later, when I was undressing she, together with the nurse, held up a white sheet to "offer me some privacy." Not seeing the logic in hiding my nakedness from people for whom I was going to bear my most 'private' body parts under the glare of a spotlight, I asked them to put down the sheet. However, the doctor insisted on holding it up arguing that it was their "usual practice." When I told this story to a friend, she herself had several gyn/ob stories to tell, including the one who told her (as she lay on his hard examination bed with her thighs open), "Oh did you know you had grey hair?!" I am therefore inviting you to share some of your most dreadful (for some not so dreadful, even pleasant) Ob/Gyn visits stories. We've all been there for various reasons... prenatal & postnatal care, delivery, pap> smears, routine check-ups, IUD insertion & birth control advice, abortion,hymen reconstruction, artificial reproductive techniques, menopause management, Hysterectomy, Cosmetic Surgery, sexual advice, STD Diagnosis & Treatment, Abnormal Bleeding, Fibroid treatment, etc, etc, etc.Confidentiality will of course be observed if requested.
Dr Sylvia Tamale, Makerere University"
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Guest Contributor Ms A on Celibacy, Temptation and Sex
It's been four months, one week and two days. I've been craving, having vivid dreams, praying, begging God to make the months move a little faster. God, has it only been four months, one week and two days?
It's been four months, one week and two days. I can't believe that I've done it. It's been four months one week and two days, I can't believe I'm still doing it. I feel a sense of achievement, blended with a sense of loss and grief. Simple, senseless, self torture. It's been four months, one week and two days since I last had sex or more accurately since my husband left me and I decided to abstain from sex. (Come to think of it, I haven't had it for more than four months , but you never really make a mental note of the last time you bedded your husband when your whole world is crumbling around your ears.)
Now for some people, not having sex may not seem like a big deal. But for me, a person who's enjoyed it and has been a willing, proactive participant for more than fifteen years this is a huge deal. For years, I depended on sex like an alcoholic depends on his daily poison of choice. Without sex, I'd get depressed, irritable and downright unpleasant to be with. My husband and I at our peak had sex every single day for years. At our worst, once every two weeks. Sex is a big deal.
So why put myself through this? I wanted clarity. I wanted to fix my head and my heart by denying my body. Above all, I wanted to be a better Christian; learn to focus on other things. Enjoy pure, wholesome relationships. Yep, I was turning over a new chapter in my life. My husband had consumed me for thirteen years of my young life. Sex had consumed us even more so. What better way to move on than to turn my back on the very things that had become a crutch. Oh yes, freedom and new beginnings...
Then walks in Temptation. Minding my own business on a night out with the girls, a guy spots me. I ignore him. He walks over. I ignore him. He talks. I ignore him. He really talks and smiles. Oh that smile. I pretend to ignore him. We kiss. I can't ignore him.
I've vowed to stay celibate for one year. That's twelve months, 365 days and google tells me a total of 8766 whole hours! I've abstained for four months, one week and two days. I have seven months, three weeks and five days remaining.
But Temptation is here now and he's dressed so smartly, and smells so delicious. And that smile, oh that smile...
It's been four months, one week and two days. I can't believe that I've done it. It's been four months one week and two days, I can't believe I'm still doing it. I feel a sense of achievement, blended with a sense of loss and grief. Simple, senseless, self torture. It's been four months, one week and two days since I last had sex or more accurately since my husband left me and I decided to abstain from sex. (Come to think of it, I haven't had it for more than four months , but you never really make a mental note of the last time you bedded your husband when your whole world is crumbling around your ears.)
Now for some people, not having sex may not seem like a big deal. But for me, a person who's enjoyed it and has been a willing, proactive participant for more than fifteen years this is a huge deal. For years, I depended on sex like an alcoholic depends on his daily poison of choice. Without sex, I'd get depressed, irritable and downright unpleasant to be with. My husband and I at our peak had sex every single day for years. At our worst, once every two weeks. Sex is a big deal.
So why put myself through this? I wanted clarity. I wanted to fix my head and my heart by denying my body. Above all, I wanted to be a better Christian; learn to focus on other things. Enjoy pure, wholesome relationships. Yep, I was turning over a new chapter in my life. My husband had consumed me for thirteen years of my young life. Sex had consumed us even more so. What better way to move on than to turn my back on the very things that had become a crutch. Oh yes, freedom and new beginnings...
Then walks in Temptation. Minding my own business on a night out with the girls, a guy spots me. I ignore him. He walks over. I ignore him. He talks. I ignore him. He really talks and smiles. Oh that smile. I pretend to ignore him. We kiss. I can't ignore him.
I've vowed to stay celibate for one year. That's twelve months, 365 days and google tells me a total of 8766 whole hours! I've abstained for four months, one week and two days. I have seven months, three weeks and five days remaining.
But Temptation is here now and he's dressed so smartly, and smells so delicious. And that smile, oh that smile...
Monday, May 11, 2009
FGM and Sex: Does sex ever become pleasurable?
I am so thrilled! I just read in Pambazuka of the first hospital in Burkina Faso, “The Pleasure Hospital” that is reconstructing clitorises for women who have been subjected to female genital mutilation. Since I started thinking seriously about women’s rights to pleasurable sex and sexuality I have always wondered about women who have been FGM’d. Do they have pleasurable sex?
I have read a few books by African women who have suffered from the practice. Those that readily come to mind include Aman’s autobiography, Aryan Hirsi’s Infidel and Waris Dirie’s Desert Flower. If I remember correctly Dirie is critical of the practice, Hirsi wrote eloquently about the torture she and her sister underwent in the name of culture and Aman refused to criticise or condone FGM. These books informed me about the pain that women who have suffered FGM go through during menstruation, intercourse and childbirth yet still let me wondering, “Do they ever get to a stage where sex becomes pleasurable?”
Does anyone know whether sex can be pleasurable if your clitoris has been cut off/excised/infibulated? I am very conscious that I am at this point thinking of vaginal/clitoral sex and not much broader…
I have read a few books by African women who have suffered from the practice. Those that readily come to mind include Aman’s autobiography, Aryan Hirsi’s Infidel and Waris Dirie’s Desert Flower. If I remember correctly Dirie is critical of the practice, Hirsi wrote eloquently about the torture she and her sister underwent in the name of culture and Aman refused to criticise or condone FGM. These books informed me about the pain that women who have suffered FGM go through during menstruation, intercourse and childbirth yet still let me wondering, “Do they ever get to a stage where sex becomes pleasurable?”
Does anyone know whether sex can be pleasurable if your clitoris has been cut off/excised/infibulated? I am very conscious that I am at this point thinking of vaginal/clitoral sex and not much broader…
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Dating a sexuality blogger?
How soon shall I tell a guy (who is interested in me) that I blog about sex and sexuality?
Sometimes the subject of blogging never comes up at all yet there have been three occasions where people have come up to me and either said "I love your blog", are you the same "Nana Darkoa who writes Adventures" or "I found your blog through google".
One of my fellow bloggers (male) told me some time ago that I should't tell a guy I have just met that I blog about sex. I think his concern was that I might get a stalker... @fellow male blogger, correct me if I am wrong.
I find that I often tell African women to check out my blog as I consciously write for women but rarely tell men to check out my blog. My concern in telling a man about my blog would be the assumptions he will make about me and I suspect those assumptions may not be all that flattering. I would hate for someone to read my blog and assume that I am going to have sex with them or that I am loose. On the other hand there is a part of me that doesn't give a toss what the majority of people think about me. I reckon that those who matter will take me just as I am.
So what are your thoughts? Ladies if you were me, in the natural conversation you have with guys who fancy you would you casually mention the blog on sexuality you contribute to or would you wait until you got to know the individual a lot better? Gentlemen, what would you think if you met a woman you fancied and she contributed to this blog?
Sometimes the subject of blogging never comes up at all yet there have been three occasions where people have come up to me and either said "I love your blog", are you the same "Nana Darkoa who writes Adventures" or "I found your blog through google".
One of my fellow bloggers (male) told me some time ago that I should't tell a guy I have just met that I blog about sex. I think his concern was that I might get a stalker... @fellow male blogger, correct me if I am wrong.
I find that I often tell African women to check out my blog as I consciously write for women but rarely tell men to check out my blog. My concern in telling a man about my blog would be the assumptions he will make about me and I suspect those assumptions may not be all that flattering. I would hate for someone to read my blog and assume that I am going to have sex with them or that I am loose. On the other hand there is a part of me that doesn't give a toss what the majority of people think about me. I reckon that those who matter will take me just as I am.
So what are your thoughts? Ladies if you were me, in the natural conversation you have with guys who fancy you would you casually mention the blog on sexuality you contribute to or would you wait until you got to know the individual a lot better? Gentlemen, what would you think if you met a woman you fancied and she contributed to this blog?
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Over the river and through the woods to the Love Shack we go!
Last week Nana and I went to the sex shop when she visited Atlanta. She has revealed on this blog that she has an “aversion” (if you can call it that) to going to Ghanaian sex shops and might feel more comfortable visiting one in the states. I on the other hand, have never been to a sex shop, anywhere. Somehow I always imagined seedy old men and semen on the walls in these establishments, and the thought has repulsed me enough to keep me out of any shop’s doors.
Until last week.
I dutifully took Nana to The Love Shack, which looked just like a shack. It was a wooden cabin decked out with neon lights, and I was grateful for the cover of night to cloak me from anyone seeing me go in. When we entered, a heavily tattooed lady interrupted her phone call to greet us and instructed us to let her know if we needed any help. We smiled and said thanks.
For my part, the atmosphere of the Love Shack conveyed more to do with fucking than it did with love. A visit to the store did not inspire me to purchase a toy and run home to show my man with relish and gusto. Apparently, several other people felt the same. A middle aged white couple came in, walked around for a few minutes and hastily exited the door.
“Nothing for you tonight?” said tattoo lady to the couple. “Come back and see us!” You could hear the disappointment through her false upbeat-ness.
As you come into the store, the “toys” and apparatus just got freakier and freakier. There was a big black plastic thing called the Double Teamer (you figure it out) and then this HUGE monster gel filled purple dick called the Ultimate Challenge. No lie, it had to be 18” long and at least 4” wide. The thought of stuffing something like that into my or anyone else’s vagina did not invoke thoughts of pleasure.
The video section of the Shack was possibly the most amusing, and made me feel like a total prude. As we strolled over to check out the titles, we nearly collided with a massive black man, who could have easily been a line backer for the Atlanta Falcons…in the GAY PORN SECTION. He carefully studied covers with titles such as “Gag that Fag”, made his selection, and walked over to the counter to pay. Nana and I walked over to the Lesbian and Straight porn section to look for what she called “woman friendly porn”. After she described what it was, I knew we wouldn’t find it among the DVDs portraying women with legs akimbo and four to fifteen penises wagging in her face.
I had seen enough, and I could sense Nana was ready to go. But the Shack was not done with us yet! As we were about to leave, I noticed a staircase to the left and pointed it out.
“What’s that,” Nana asked.
“It’s probably just more videos,” I replied.
“No, no,” said the mass of tattoos eagerly. “It’s a viewing booth.”
“A viewing booth??” we said in unison.
At that moment, a twenty something white boy in cargo shorts came down the stairs looking somewhat shaken and headed back for the video section. I am sad to report that our revulsion overpowered our journalistic curiosity and we did NOT go upstairs to see what/who was in that booth. We left the store empty handed and heads full of possible atrocities taking place in the attic of the shack.
Two days later I took Nana to visit my friend who is a purveyor of all things to do with pleasure. We bought a few things from her Pure Romance line, from the comfort of her home: some mechanized thing that seeks out your g-spot and coochy cream. I was far more comfortable in this setting, despite the Disney cartoon that was playing in the background. Somehow, that just seemed a little weird, seeing as we were three grown women talking about sexual intimacy and there was not a child in sight…
Until last week.
I dutifully took Nana to The Love Shack, which looked just like a shack. It was a wooden cabin decked out with neon lights, and I was grateful for the cover of night to cloak me from anyone seeing me go in. When we entered, a heavily tattooed lady interrupted her phone call to greet us and instructed us to let her know if we needed any help. We smiled and said thanks.
For my part, the atmosphere of the Love Shack conveyed more to do with fucking than it did with love. A visit to the store did not inspire me to purchase a toy and run home to show my man with relish and gusto. Apparently, several other people felt the same. A middle aged white couple came in, walked around for a few minutes and hastily exited the door.
“Nothing for you tonight?” said tattoo lady to the couple. “Come back and see us!” You could hear the disappointment through her false upbeat-ness.
As you come into the store, the “toys” and apparatus just got freakier and freakier. There was a big black plastic thing called the Double Teamer (you figure it out) and then this HUGE monster gel filled purple dick called the Ultimate Challenge. No lie, it had to be 18” long and at least 4” wide. The thought of stuffing something like that into my or anyone else’s vagina did not invoke thoughts of pleasure.
The video section of the Shack was possibly the most amusing, and made me feel like a total prude. As we strolled over to check out the titles, we nearly collided with a massive black man, who could have easily been a line backer for the Atlanta Falcons…in the GAY PORN SECTION. He carefully studied covers with titles such as “Gag that Fag”, made his selection, and walked over to the counter to pay. Nana and I walked over to the Lesbian and Straight porn section to look for what she called “woman friendly porn”. After she described what it was, I knew we wouldn’t find it among the DVDs portraying women with legs akimbo and four to fifteen penises wagging in her face.
I had seen enough, and I could sense Nana was ready to go. But the Shack was not done with us yet! As we were about to leave, I noticed a staircase to the left and pointed it out.
“What’s that,” Nana asked.
“It’s probably just more videos,” I replied.
“No, no,” said the mass of tattoos eagerly. “It’s a viewing booth.”
“A viewing booth??” we said in unison.
At that moment, a twenty something white boy in cargo shorts came down the stairs looking somewhat shaken and headed back for the video section. I am sad to report that our revulsion overpowered our journalistic curiosity and we did NOT go upstairs to see what/who was in that booth. We left the store empty handed and heads full of possible atrocities taking place in the attic of the shack.
Two days later I took Nana to visit my friend who is a purveyor of all things to do with pleasure. We bought a few things from her Pure Romance line, from the comfort of her home: some mechanized thing that seeks out your g-spot and coochy cream. I was far more comfortable in this setting, despite the Disney cartoon that was playing in the background. Somehow, that just seemed a little weird, seeing as we were three grown women talking about sexual intimacy and there was not a child in sight…
Shopping for Sex Toys
We walk into “The Love Shack” and we’re welcomed by a be-tattoed “biker looking” woman who wants to know if there is anything in particular we’re looking for. I am with my co-contributor on this blog (we have also decided to do a double post on our sex toy shopping experience). I am not looking for anything in particular, I just want to see what else there is in the sex toy world. I ask if she stocks the Screaming O which a reader of this blog recommends; she’s out of stock but shows me the leaflet. I realise that the Screaming O is actually the name of a range of sex toys. According to our sales assistant/manager/owner she and her hubby love the Screaming O. Drat; I wish it was in stock.
We’re the only women in the shop. Abena points out to me a huge black man who heads straight for the Gay Porn section. Hmmm, one really should not stereotype. A skinny white man is also in the film section. There is nothing in the vibrator section which grabs my interest. At this point in time I am thinking “Do you really need more than one vibrator”. Ohmigod! I see the hugest longest vibrator ever; it must be like 20 inches, what does one do with a thing that huge. I also see a purple double vibrator, I don’t think that’s the technical name but the vibrator is designed to go into two people together. Oh yes, and I spot the pleasure beads that Chrysalis commented about...
We want to go to the film section now but somehow I feel uncomfortable with huge black guy and skinny white man being there...we linger a bit longer in the vibrator section but it doesn’t look like the men will be leaving anytime soon so we just walk over. None of the films look appealing at all! One film cover is of a woman with a penis in every possible crevice and cum all over her face. Eugh!
I decide I do not like the environment and so we leave. I want an environment that’s more friendly to women. The typical Ann Summers shop is much nicer, I had also heard some time ago about Sh, a sex shop in London which is for women only. From what I had heard, men can only visit the shop if they are accompanied by a woman. There is a solution though and a day later we trek to the home of a Pure Romance saleswoman. In anticipation of our visit she has arranged on her living table an assortment of vibrators, massage oils, edible creams and books. Ah, this is more like it, definitely a friendlier environment. I have issues with some of the stuff she tries to sell me, such as the lubricant that keeps on re-moisturising so you never get dry. Apparently it’s very popular with women. I’m sorry; if I am dry then you need to work harder!
Now I know I said what’s the point of having two vibrators but I end up buying a vibrator. Now this vibrator is really unique. There is a protrusion at one end which is supposed to stimulate your G spot and a concave dip on the opposite side which is for clitoral stimulation. Even better, the range is being discontinued so the vibrator is a bargain at $10 a pop. I buy two.
Nana Darkoa
We’re the only women in the shop. Abena points out to me a huge black man who heads straight for the Gay Porn section. Hmmm, one really should not stereotype. A skinny white man is also in the film section. There is nothing in the vibrator section which grabs my interest. At this point in time I am thinking “Do you really need more than one vibrator”. Ohmigod! I see the hugest longest vibrator ever; it must be like 20 inches, what does one do with a thing that huge. I also see a purple double vibrator, I don’t think that’s the technical name but the vibrator is designed to go into two people together. Oh yes, and I spot the pleasure beads that Chrysalis commented about...
We want to go to the film section now but somehow I feel uncomfortable with huge black guy and skinny white man being there...we linger a bit longer in the vibrator section but it doesn’t look like the men will be leaving anytime soon so we just walk over. None of the films look appealing at all! One film cover is of a woman with a penis in every possible crevice and cum all over her face. Eugh!
I decide I do not like the environment and so we leave. I want an environment that’s more friendly to women. The typical Ann Summers shop is much nicer, I had also heard some time ago about Sh, a sex shop in London which is for women only. From what I had heard, men can only visit the shop if they are accompanied by a woman. There is a solution though and a day later we trek to the home of a Pure Romance saleswoman. In anticipation of our visit she has arranged on her living table an assortment of vibrators, massage oils, edible creams and books. Ah, this is more like it, definitely a friendlier environment. I have issues with some of the stuff she tries to sell me, such as the lubricant that keeps on re-moisturising so you never get dry. Apparently it’s very popular with women. I’m sorry; if I am dry then you need to work harder!
Now I know I said what’s the point of having two vibrators but I end up buying a vibrator. Now this vibrator is really unique. There is a protrusion at one end which is supposed to stimulate your G spot and a concave dip on the opposite side which is for clitoral stimulation. Even better, the range is being discontinued so the vibrator is a bargain at $10 a pop. I buy two.
Nana Darkoa
Friday, May 1, 2009
Things your vibrator will/can never do for/to you
Vibrators (or toys in general) and their use seem to be quite the hot topic on this blog! One viewer’s reaction to my pondering on how my husband would feel if I bought one really struck me. He said something akin to “a vibrator cannot give you emotional support and sex is not just about something filling up your pussy…” or something like that. The only thing I can actually quote verbatim from his ‘contribution’ is the phrase “filling up your pussy”.
But that got me to thinking. The male contributor did make a valid point. There are certain things a vibrator (or any other sex toy) cannot do for you. I’ve made a list of those off the top of my head.
1. A vibrator cannot tell you it loves you.
2. A vibrator cannot give you a hug and whisper affirming words in your ear after sex.
BUT:
1. If you keep your vibrator charged or filled with batteries, it will never run out on you (like your man might).
2. A vibrator will not stop until YOU are satisfied.
3. A vibrator will not cum all over your sheets, or ask if it can cum in your hair after you’ve just had it washed.
4. A vibrator will never cheat on you.
5. A vibrator will be home when you get there.
6. A vibrator will never be with another woman (unless you have a nasty habit of sharing your plastic).
7. A vibrator will never leave the toilet seat up or take a piss on your floor if it missed the bowl.
AND:
1. Although a vibrator cannot love you, it sure can help you love yourself!
Did I miss anything? :)
But that got me to thinking. The male contributor did make a valid point. There are certain things a vibrator (or any other sex toy) cannot do for you. I’ve made a list of those off the top of my head.
1. A vibrator cannot tell you it loves you.
2. A vibrator cannot give you a hug and whisper affirming words in your ear after sex.
BUT:
1. If you keep your vibrator charged or filled with batteries, it will never run out on you (like your man might).
2. A vibrator will not stop until YOU are satisfied.
3. A vibrator will not cum all over your sheets, or ask if it can cum in your hair after you’ve just had it washed.
4. A vibrator will never cheat on you.
5. A vibrator will be home when you get there.
6. A vibrator will never be with another woman (unless you have a nasty habit of sharing your plastic).
7. A vibrator will never leave the toilet seat up or take a piss on your floor if it missed the bowl.
AND:
1. Although a vibrator cannot love you, it sure can help you love yourself!
Did I miss anything? :)
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