Kansas is a nightmarishly endless stretch of flat, snow-muddied fields beneath dreary gray skies; it’s populated by miserable white people who hate f*gs and chant during basketball like they’re summoning demons. My partner and I lived there for about a decade, often pretending to be just roommates to avoid eviction, and usually too poor to afford proper winter coats.

There were only two “adult novelty” stores within driving distance, and both belonged to the same chain: Patricia’s. These brick and mortars were everything you’d expect from a tiny sex shop in the middle of god-fearing flyover country: skeevy, stocked with cheap dildos and vibrators that broke with one use, and aggressively heterosexual and vanilla in both inventory and presentation. The employees there were always either uninterested in customers or weirdly passive-aggressive (or aggressive-aggressive) about your purchases. And in a town where people regularly held protests at the local video store because they carried porn, it was a risk to park at either location – so shopping had to be done quickly, and usually at night.

Our handful of purchases there throughout the years were… not good. With no guidance from employees and no access to the internet to research things ourselves, we bought cheap toys that were either toxic or ill-suited for our needs. These experiences normalized and internalized harmful ideas about what sex toys are supposed to be, and if I’m being honest, I’m still in the process of unpacking and unlearning those falsehoods.

I think these lessons are worth sharing. So here I am, sharing a few of them!

Lesson One: Don’t buy toxic and/or porous sex toys.

Our longest lasting dildo was a translucent blue “jelly” monstrosity that we purchased because it was the least penis-like dildo sold in the size we wanted (and yet it still had a very defined head and bulging veins, which tells you a few things about the shop’s selection.) It smelled horrible, left grease stains on anything it touched (and oily residue on my fingers), and would sometimes “sweat” in storage. Buster never had an issue using it, but I had persistent vaginal itches and burning whenever I came into contact with it – and I never once used it internally, it was entirely from residue transfer on my fingers.

My favorite vibe (which broke and had to be replaced over and over) came with flubbery sleeves for different sensations, but the sleeves had to be stored separately from the jelly dildo because when they came in contact with each other they melted. I never noticed having any physical reactions to the sleeves, but I did notice mold spots sometimes and had to throw them out.

If these things sound horrifying: good, you’ll make (or have made) better purchase decisions than we did. If this sounds familiar: throw that piece of shit away! It can do real harm! You deserve better! 

Sex toys are an unregulated industry, meaning there’s no laws dictating what manufacturers can use to make their toys. And I can’t exactly blame customers (including myself) for not doing research on potentially harmful products – sure, people google food ingredients at grocery stores sometimes, but it’s far from universally commonplace. And without being educated on the dangers of toxic and/or porous toys, it’s easy to assume all the nasty side effects are normal. As gross as our jelly dildo and sleeved vibrator may sound in writing, when I owned them I just accepted all the problems as part of having a sex toy.

But here’s the truth: toxic and/or porous materials and all the harm and nastiness that comes with them are not problems you have to accept. Yes, toxic toys (such as those that contain phthalates, like most polyvinylchloride/“PVC” dildos) and porous toys (like those made with thermoplastic elastomer or rubber, aka TPE/TPR) are often cheap and readily accessible in chain stores and on big websites. And yes, there’s often inadequate warning (or none at all) about their hazards.

But you can be an advocate for yourself. You can spend a little time reading, a little time shopping, and a lot of time enjoying sex toys that aren’t gross and don’t pose an inherent danger to your body.

Where you can read up on sex toy materials:

• /R/Sextoys over on Reddit has a great, straight-forward guide on Sex Toy Safety that also includes cleaning instructions and information on lube and condom compatibility.
• Ruby of MissRubyReviews has an excellent piece on bad materials and why they’re bad, and details good materials and where you can buy toys made of that material.
• For the best, most comprehensive information on sex toy materials – as well as dildo burning tests and The Jar of Melted Sex Toys – you absolutely must fall down the rabbit hole that is DangerousLilly. Without Lilly’s site, I’d still be canoodling with some seriously questionable toys.

Lists of budget-friendly safe sex toys:

• 35 Body-Safe Sex Toys Under $35
• Top 10 Sex Toys Under $30 (three editions)
• Phallophile Reviews (“cheap” tag)
• Great Sex Toys on a Budget
• 10 Body Safe Toys for $50 or Less
• Affordable AF! Body-Safe Dildos Under $40
• NoFrillDos
• Vibrators under $50 from Peepshow Toys

Where you can shop safely*:

• See next lesson.

*Please note that even good shops sometimes sell crappy toys! Always double-check the item description for its materials.

Lesson Two: When you can, spend your money where it’s deserved.

Sex negativity is ingrained in our (American) culture, but I found it especially gripping while living in the midwest – even within the walls of a sex toy shop. My favorite anecdote for illustrating this point is from when Buster found a beginner’s butt plug set on clearance and decided to buy it. The employee who handled her transaction felt comfortable (justified, even?) in openly sneering in disgust. Because butt plugs (especially when bought by folks perceived as women) are icky, and who cares about being rude to customers if they’re perverts who do butt stuff, I guess?

Being queer had already forced us to build up a tolerance for having our sexuality judged and commentated on by strangers, so it didn’t bother us much at the time; in fact, I distinctly recall Buster laughing as she relayed the story to me. But I imagine for other folks, this kind of interaction could be devastating. There’s already so much stigma surrounding prioritizing one’s sexual pleasure, let alone pursuing toys to do it… being mocked by the very people peddling those sex toys could easily crumble what little resolve someone’s built up.

You should feel comfortable making a purchase at a sex toy store. While stigma (and internalized shame) won’t be undone in a day, a good retailer can help you feel safe and welcome. “Doesn’t sneer at customers” is a low bar, though. Sex toy shops should be intersectionally feminist, welcoming to people of color, queer- and trans-inclusive, body positive, and accessible to disabled folks – these are the markers of stores that can genuinely cater to their customers, because it’s not just lackluster customer service that can alienate customers. Every aspect of a store communicates something to shoppers, and sometimes what’s being expressed is you’re not welcome here. For example:

• Are the shop walls covered in advertisement posters featuring faceless objectified women, implying women’s body parts are a selling point but their inclusion, agency, and pleasure are not?
• Are all the banners in the site’s sidebars centered on white straight couples, reminding people of color, queer (and aro/ace) folks, and people in polyam relationships that they’re rarely thought of?
• Are toys separated into “male” and “female” categories, forcing trans shoppers to awkwardly browse sections structured around dysphoria-inducing binaries?
• Is all the lingerie in smaller sizes, disregarding a majority of customers and causing many unnecessary shame? What are the body types of the product models, are they all the same?
• Are the aisles large enough to accommodate a wheelchair? Do descriptions on the site include texture details so those of us with sensory issues can make an educated purchase?

There are no perfect shops. But there are enough retailers that most of us can decide for ourselves who makes us feel the most welcome and thus deserves our patronage.

(Now, I have a lot of feelings about ethical consumerism, but that’ll have to wait for another post…)

Some pieces on what we should demand from retailers:

• 5 Ways to Know You’re Buying From an Ethical Sex Shop by Kate Sloan of GirlyJuice
• 8 Commitments Sex Toy Companies Can Make in 2018 by Sarah Brynn Holliday of FormidableFemme
• Fat & Fired Up: How Sex Stores Can be Body-Positive by Suz of RedHotSuz
• Sexuality Attitudes, Disability Myths, and Shopping For Sex Toys by Robin Mandell of ReadySexyAble
• Dear Sex Shops: Sex Toys are Gender Neutral by Lilly of DangerousLilly
• The Myth of the Lesbian Sex Toy by Sarah Brynn Holliday of FormidableFemme
• Why Finding Reliable Adult Stores Matters by Emmeline Peaches of EmmelinePeachesReviews
• On the Importance of Queer, Women Centered, Feminist Sex Toy Shops by Sinclair of Sugarbutch
• Why Good Sex Shops Matter by JoEllen Notte of RedHeadBedHead

Where you should do your shopping:

• Superhero Sex Shop Map (RedHeadBedHed)
• Map of Queer, Women Centered, & Feminist Sex Toy Shops (via Sugarbutch)
• Trusted Retailers (BackwoodsBedroom)
• Why Buying From Amazon is Risky / Where to Shop (DangerousLilly)
• Education and More (LoraxOfSex)
• Where to Buy (ErikaLyne)
• Guide: Sex Toy Shopping on Etsy (NinjaSexology)
• Helpful Lists Composed by SquirrelMunk (SquirrelMunk via /R/Sextoys)

Keep in mind that everyone’s opinions on what constitutes a good shop will vary. I, personally, really like SheVibe and Peepshow Toys, and have really good experiences with both.

Lesson Three: Just because something doesn’t work, doesn’t mean you don’t work. Keep looking.

When my wife and I first began dating back in high school over a decade ago, I had nowhere to go to learn about queer sex. Everything Buster and I did was based on instinct and scraps of amateur porn downloaded over dial-up. Strap-ons were a mystery to me, an element of male gaze oriented lesbian porn that I wasn’t even sure real people used. But I wanted to try one, because Buster loves being penetrated and I love fucking her.

Unfortunately, our first strap-on harness purchase was a cheaply constructed mess. While the straps were capable of expanding enough to accommodate my large hips, the harness itself was too flimsy to stay put, especially on my body shape. The weak bullet vibe that accompanied it didn’t even pass through the harness padding let alone get me off. And I had no idea how to wear and use it correctly, resulting in a few ineffectual sessions that were more frustration than fucking. We only tried it a few times before tossing it out because I was absolutely humiliated by the experience.

It’s easy, as a fat person, to assume that when something doesn’t fit, it’s a personal failing. Few things are made to fit me, from “capacity-maximizing” bus seats that prioritize fitting as many paying riders as possible over actually accommodating those riders, to boots with narrow ankles; I am constantly uncomfortable and reminded that I don’t belong. It was easy to accept that as a fat person, I just wasn’t meant for using a strap-on.

It’s been much harder to learn and accept the truth: fat people deserve strap-ons that suit them too, and I am not a failure if I wasn’t included in someone’s design. A design that doesn’t include you isn’t a reflection of your value, it’s not proof of anything except that the design either came from ignorance or malice, and neither of those are your fault.

It was also easy to accept that if the bullet vibe wasn’t doing it for me, it was due to some other personal failing, like maybe I’d desensitized myself with my other vibrators. (Which, to be clear, is literally impossible.) It’s been much harder to realize and accept that there are quite a few profoundly shitty sex toys on the market, and that bodies aren’t faulty but sex toys certainly can be.

The internet is endless now, and so are the opportunities to self-educate. If only teenage me had Autostraddle, sex-positive queer Youtubers, and honest porn like CrashPadSeries, to learn more about the sex I was having and how to make it even better. If only I’d had sex bloggers to read and ask questions of to make the best purchase choices.

But I have those things now. And it’s not just queer sex one can research – it’s all sex. Everything your awkward parents and dangerously vague health teachers never covered, and everything your gossipy peers and magazine covers lied to you about. From contraceptives to kink, there’s a website or a blog out there where you can learn more.

Eventually, there will be a list here to share the spaces I’ve found fountains of knowledge. But I’m still only learning myself, so for now –

To be continued.

Do you have a relevant link that should have a home here (or as part of lessons one and two)? Leave it in the comments below, or hit me up on Twitter!