My brain has the habit of storing odd bits and bobs of information. Locker codes, the difference between -ene and -ane hydrocarbons, the best way to remove blood from a carpet.

Which is how, I suppose, I found myself explaining yesterday to a group of friends how one cleans a Fleshlight.


Uh. Sorry. This might get a little NSFW.

See, my friend’s college-age son practices safe sex. She knows, because he leaves condom wrappers everywhere. There are days I want to go shake him and say “young man, when I was your age we not only buried our stuff in the trash can, we started taking our own trash out.” But he has a significantly different attitude toward what his mom should and shouldn’t know, I guess, which is how his Fleshlight ended up abandoned in the shower at her house after he went back to school this term.

Of course, she did what any sane mother would do, which is post a picture of it in a private Facebook group and mock him heavily. Every time I open Facebook now there’s a giant pink silicone vulva gaping at me from the top of the page because you guys this shit is hilarious and we can’t stop talking about it.

It’s not just the Fleshlight, though.

If it were, maybe I wouldn’t be so worried. But this natural tendency to store data, combined with my Hermione Grainger level of knowitallitude, leads to me being the one to explain way too many things to way too many strangers.

How to adjust a strap on harness. Why you shouldn’t use lube with glycerin for vaginal sex (yeast infections, if you were curious). The existence of bluetooth vibrators. The difference between a packing dildo and one for play, and that there are packers with internal armatures that can be used for both purposes. The three major types of STP adaptors. What a sybian machine is. How to rig attachment points on a standard Ikea bedframe.

The list goes on, you guys, that’s just off the top of my head, from the past week.

It’s not just me mouthing off anymore, either. People are starting to seek me out in private messages like “what does sliquid’s gel lube taste like?” (Verdict: nothing) and “where do you find good free porn on the internet anymore?” (Verdict: depends on your tastes) and I’m not sure how to handle it. On the one hand, boy oh boy do I love knowing everything.

pick me teacher i'm ever so smart

On the other hand, what if this is who I become? The Sexpert? What if nobody ever talks to me again except to ask what’s the best-smelling dildo material? (Verdict: Vixskin, by a long shot) Should I be worried, or flattered?

Scuse me. While I ponder that, I’ve gotta go educate some folks on the existence of the velvet vulva hand puppet.