A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of recording an audio workshop (podcast) with one of my favourite people on the internet, Nicole of a Life Less Bullshit. We spent an hour talking about career paths, being a writer and what it’s like to write about sex on the internet – and it was so much fun! You can listen to the audio workshop here.
As you probably know, when it comes to sex toys I’m fairly adventurous and will try almost anything once. I’m not opposed to taking one for the team if it might lead to a great story. So, when Nicole asked me to share one of the most bizarre experiences as a sex writer, I told the story of the time I decided to try the iRide by Doc Johnson – a monstrosity of a sex toy that has since become the bane of my existence. As I described it to Nicole, the iRide looks like a cross between a dildo and a rocking horse, dipped in Pepto-Bismal pink. In other words, it’s utterly terrifying and I’ll never live down the fact that I owned this item. It’s also the worst sex toy ever.
So, what exactly is wrong with the iRide besides the obvious? Oh, many, many things my friend. Here’s a quick summary –
It’s wildly uncomfortable.
The insertable portion of the toy and it’s clitoral nub are made of ABS plastic – a material that although body safe, is notorious for irritating my lady parts. When I “mounted” this toy and inserted it, I immediately felt a familiar burning sensation that happens whenever I try to use ABS toys. Not fun at all.
It’s hard (and not in a good way.)
As per the Doc Johnson website, “The naturally curved design [of the iRide] allows for sensual rhythmic movement, while the padded cushion makes for a soft, smooth ride.” Um, what padded cushion? This toy is made of hard plastic and the ride is anything but smooth. Although there is a bit of flexibility in the shaft, the large nubby bump that’s meant to stimulate your clit is rock hard. “Rocking” against it felt like I was about to bruise my pelvic bone.
It’s anything but ergonomic.
Using this toy is awkward. If you try to use it on the floor you’ll inevitably end up with rug or floor burns. However, when I tried to use it on my bed, I nearly went flying.
It’s big…in all the wrong places.
Hey, did I mention that the shaft on this thing is barely 4 inches long?! Although there are some smaller sized toys that I really love, this is not one of them. The penis portion seems inexplicably small and nubby compared to the rest of the toy which is massive. The total length of the “seat” is approximately a foot and a half. It also comes in the world’s biggest and least discreet box ever.
(I also have the sneaking suspicion that “Doc Johnson” isn’t a real doctor. Just a thought.)
Trying to store the iRide has been a royal pain in the butt. I keep most of my sex toys neatly organized in a cabinet with a bunch of different drawers. Unsurprisingly, the iRide doesn’t fit in the drawers…or any drawers really. The shaft isn’t long enough to be pleasurable, however it’s just long enough to make it impossible to fit under the bed….and there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving this thing out in public.
Needless to say, Joe the Intern is very, very concerned about the storage issues the iRide has caused.
Frustrated, I eventually just put it in a large Marc Jacobs tote bag that has seen better days, stuffed it in the very back of my closet and promptly forgot about the iRide.
That was almost three years ago. Since then, I have moved to another area of the house and my former bedroom has been converted back to a guest room that my sister uses whenever she comes home to visit.
A few weeks ago, I was eating lunch with my sister when her face suddenly dropped.
“Simone, I need to tell you something” she said. “Mom and I were cleaning out the closet and well, we found something of yours. Mom is was really disturbed.”
The first thing that popped into my mind was, “OH GOD. THE IRIDE!”
Mortified, I decided then and there that the iRide had to go.
Although the disposing of the Nick Hawk Dildo was relatively easy, sending the iRide off to the big sex toy pile in the sky proved to be a lot more challenging. Along with being ridiculously inconvenient, the iRide is also nearly indestructible. Not to say that we didn’t try.
After a delicious Sunday brunch, I enlisted the help of my lovely boyfriend (more on him later!) to dispose of the iRide. High on coffee and omelettes, we were full of ideas of how to rid Skinny Dip headquarters of the iRide once and for all.
However, we quickly learned that there is no way to dispose of the iRide discretely. When I mentioned to my Mom that I was thinking of just chucking it in the garbage, she was horrified.
“But, what if someone finds it and thinks it’s mine?!” she said, aghast at the possibility.
That’s when I suggested, “Maybe we could cut it up into pieces, wrap it in a trash bag and throw it out murderer style.”
However, after much pulling and tugging we realized that there was no way the iRide was coming apart. Instead, we decided we might as well skip the dismemberment and just bury it in the shallow grave it deserved – an idea that was later vetoed out of fear that it would eventually rise like a bright pink phoenix (errr, penis) to terrorize future generations.
Frustrated, we briefly considered just abandoning it.
The iRide is hard to love, so when there were no takers, we unsuccessfully tried to make it more appealing. It didn’t work.
A few months ago, I binge watched the show Bloodline on Netflix. If you asked me how I’d ideally like to get rid of the iRide, I’d tell you that my dream of all dreams would be to send it to a fury, aquatic death while Kyle Chandler narrated the scene, “We’re not bad people, but we did a bad thing.”
So, it was settled. We would give the iRide a viking burial, complete with tea lights and a heroic send off. However, along with being a terrible sex toy, the iRide also has a poor centre of gravity. Almost immediately after lighting the tea lights and launching the iRide into the ocean for it’s final voyage, it capsized.
Without Kyle Chandler to narrate the iRide’s send-off, we stood by and watched as it slowly floated off, face down, back towards where it originally came from (China.)
However, just when we were getting ready to leave the beach something unexpected happened. The current shifted and the iRide began slowly making it’s way back towards the shore like a demented, pink boomerang.
NO. NO. NO. NO!
When it looked like the iRide had settled about 20 feet off of shore, I started to panic. Had people seen us dump it in the ocean?! What if it washed up on the shore?! What if someone found it?! Wait, is disposing of a sex toy in public illegal? What if we got arrested?! Oh god, we both still have so much to live for!
However, when my boyfriend saw that I was freaking out, he did what awesome, gallant guys do: he waited until the iRide was just close enough to the rocky shore and fished it out with a stick.
“Thanks babe, I wasn’t ready for prison” I told him.
Disappointed, discouraged and beaten down by the iRide that just wouldn’t go away, we did what we probably should have done all along: we unceremoniously chucked it in a garbage can downtown. My boyfriend has since gone by said garbage can and is pleased to report that the iRide is gone. Whether it’s on it’s way to a landfill or has been snatched up by one of Victoria’s many dumpster divers, we’ll never know.
The iRide is currently available on Amazon for the fine price of $69.98. Buy it for the bride-to-be that you want to deeply embarrass in front of her friends and family. Drop one off on the front porch of that guy you really hate. Grab one for everyone in your life that you’re hoping to alienate. The iRide makes the perfect gift for all of those scenarios! Just don’t, I repeat, don’t buy one for yourself.
