Home » Confessions of a Semi-Retired Sex Blogger

Confessions of a Semi-Retired Sex Blogger

When I was a tween I couldn’t imagine a time when I wouldn’t be completely obsessed with Madonna. In my teens and early twenties I never thought I’d outgrow collecting CDs. In my later twenties, I yearned to own all of my favourite TV series on DVD.  Now that I’m a 30-something, I listen to most of my music digitally or on vinyl, stream the majority of my media and my interest in Madonna has long since waned. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that change is the one constant in life.

This is all to say that when I started blogging about sex toys in 2010, I couldn’t picture a point in the future where I wouldn’t find receiving free sex toys and writing about them on the internet to be anything less than thrilling (#LIVINGTHEDREAM), but eventually that changed too.

Sometime in 2015 I started to experience major Sex Blogger Burnout (SBB?).

I’ll always be forever grateful for the thoughtful companies that provided products for me to review and the opportunity to explore my sexuality in the process, somewhere along the line reviewing sex toys stopped being fun and instead felt more like an overwhelming, stressful, obligation. I never really bounced back from the burnout and don’t foresee that happening, ever. Hence, the title of “semi-retired” and the steady drop off of adult product reviews. To quote my friend Casey who kindly made today’s blog graphic, “I’ve got 99 problems and somehow they’ve all got something to do with blogging.”

So, how does one end up with a serious case of sex blogger burnout? It starts with a cluster of First World Problems and ends with you wanting to throw a garbage bag of used dildos into the ocean, Dexter style. Let me explain:

Backlog is a bitch.

Nothing kills creativity like a waist-high pile of sex toys that you don’t want to write about. When my burnout reached a crescendo in 2015, I caught myself having thoughts like, “If I schedule a couple of masturbation sessions on X day and write 3.2 reviews per day, then I might be able to get through the pile by X date. But if we’re being real, I’d rather lay by the pool and read a book.” When masturbation starts to feel like a chore, what’s the point?

Welcome to Cardboard Box Mountain. It’s scarier than Space Mountain, but much less fun.

You guys, until recently this is what my garage looked like. Adult products are often excessively over-packaged – something that never sat well with me from an environmental standpoint. As my desire to write reviews began to dissipate, so did my desire to dismantle the boxes. So, I just left them. Forever. As I courted a spot on the next season of Hoarders.

Hoarder pile of cardboard boxes

The storage issues are real.

This is the cabinet where I house 95% of my toys. It’s now getting very, very full and I am completely running out of storage space for new sex toys.

Also, as we’ve seen with the iRide (below), some of the toys don’t even fit in the cabinet (or anywhere really). This makes Joe the Intern stressed AF.


I don’t know what to do with the toys I don’t use.

Two of those cabinet drawers are full of toys that are by definition duds. Bad vibrations. Bad design. Just “meh.” I want to dispose of them ethically, but where? My neighborhood hosts a plastic & electronics recycling event every month and while I generally lack shame in most areas of my life, I’m not exactly dying to run into my neighbours while wielding giant bags full of used dildos.

Not every toy can get a Viking Funeral like the iRide or a military send-off like this dildo.



My charger situation has become my own private hell.

I used to meticulously organize all the chargers for my rechargeable toys, but now I just stuff them in a drawer and hope for the best. The “best” is a tangle of electrical cords reminiscent of a scene from the movie The Hurt Locker.


There’s only so many things I can say.

I feel like I’m in the blogging equivalent of the Portlandia sketch where the Pitchfork employees declare, “that’s it! We’ve said everything there is to say about music!” There’s only so many things I can say about a vibrator, so it’s time to move on.

I’m kind of over talking about my vagina on the internet.

While I’m still down to periodically review products that I think are really cool like The Womanizer and showcase badass companies like Unbound, lately I’ve been craving more privacy. What originally felt liberating now feels kind of uncomfortable – even if I’m not talking about my own body. Can I list off the top male sex machines? Sure. But, do I still want to have these kinds of conversations in an uber public forum? Not really. I’ve realized that I can still show my vulnerability and connect with people through my writing without discussing my genitals.

Other people do it better.

I’m Ok admitting this. There are lots of other awesome, bad-ass female sex bloggers, who are amazing at what they do. For example, my friend Marvelous Darling manages to seamlessly combine writing about sex toys, beauty products & mental health, while Hey Epiphora is the Queen of writing snarky, hilarious, well-informed sex toy reviews. I also love anything that JoEllen Notte and Elle Chase write. Internet, you’re in good hands.

It no longer feels authentic.

This is the biggest one for me. Cardboard box mountains and Viking burials aside, writing about sex toys all the time just doesn’t feel like me anymore. While I have no qualms sharing products that I think are legitimately interesting & am always available to answer questions via email, I’d rather spend my time writing about dating, modern romance and the things I am passionate about like music and the art I’m into and my on-going obsession with California.

I have one more sex toy review scheduled (a toy that’s been on my bucket list for awhile!) and then we’ll see what happens!



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