Should You Fuck a Robot? On Second Thought, Maybe Not

"Let us do some sex at now."

As you may recall from Should You Fuck A Robot? Well...Maybe,* I was all hepped on banging robots. My main arguments being:
1) An article I read skimmed that predicted that one day doctors would prescribe sex with robots as part of a healthy lifestyle (orgasm=longevity). But mostly:
2) The sudden realization that if sexbots were as good as predicting what I liked, sex-wise, as Pandora internet radio is, music-wise--well, sign me the fuck up.

However, I'm not saying that you should rush to locate the nearest robot and start humping away. No, there are a few very important caveats. To wit:

1. I'm talking about robots in the future. WAY, WAY, WAY in the future. Like in 2050, the year experts predict sexbots will become indistinguishable from humans. (Although, by 2050, the only thing I'll be wanting my sexbot to do is bring me my slippers and juice.) Unfortunately sexbots of 2011 are quite distinguishable from humans.

The happy couple

Consider Roxxxy (above and left) the state-of-art in sexbots from TrueCompanion. She has five programmable personalities, a motor that makes her appear to breathe, and she talks in her sleep. She can hold a "conversation," "look" at you with her dead, soulless eyes and will fuck you senseless for 3 hours (at which time her battery runs out), never once mentioning the wretched fact that you have just spent the last 3 hours having sex with a household appliance. However, I think TrueCompanion could stand to do some re-jiggering on Roxxxy's general demeanor.  I am not a robotologist, but in these pix, Roxxxy appears to be less "in the mood" and more "prepared to acquire human genetic samples to take to hostile home planet."

2. Expense. $7000--a sum of cash that's difficult to hide, even using the kind of highly developed "black budget" I've adopted in my own household finances. And don't be trying to save money on this kind of thing. Reader Belinda brought up the enchantingly disturbing possibility of cheaper knockoffs that would exhibit only a passing knowledge of human sexual desires. "You liiiiike arm," your cheapo doll would squeak in an unpleasant voice, using the twisted syntax of dollar store product instructions, as it poked your arm painfully. "Time to put sex on me!" Then its plastic eye would fall out.

3. Various and sundry concerns brought up by beloved In Bed With Married Women readers (among them dear Ed, Tricia, Annah, Candycan and The Barreness) including lack of relationship drama, loss of human interaction, and fear of becoming so smitten by robot love that you'd give up on flawed humans entirely. Not to mention embarrassing tech support calls. ("Well, the problems started when Roxxxy and I decided to get a can of peas involved...")

I will leave you today with a link to this wonderfully cheeky Cracked.com article, The First Talking Robot: A (Terrified) User's Review, in which Daniel O'Brien spends an evening with Roxxy. Is it a date? Household appliance review? You decide...

xoxox
jill

*Yes, this a rerun, okay?  I would offer you an excuse but I can't really think of one.

IBWMW Smuts Up Dame and a Brave Reader Tries Zestra

The Zestra Rush--big time.

1.  In very squee-ish news, my article 50 Shades of Wrong: Erotica's Least Sexy Leading Men is running over at Dame magazine! Go on by, comment and feel free to share the living fuck out of it via Twitter, Facebook, and/or tin can and string phone system. I want that article to be good and sore by the time we're through with it.

2. Also reader Keppiehed was brave enough to try out possibly scary "arousal gel" Zestra (see also: Fire Down Below!!!) on our collective behalves. Here's her report:

First try:

As someone who can't smell or taste, I needed a partner-in-crime in this venture. Luckily, my best pal N is used to odd requests, and she didn't blink an eye when I showed up with a package of arousal oil and asked her to smell me.

“It's not like I want you to shove your nose in my lady parts,” I reasoned. “Let's just put some on our hands. I brought enough to share.”

We split the first pack between us. I even rubbed some behind my ears for good measure. Not wanting to ruin the validity of the test, I didn't tell her that there'd been some considerable online smack talk about the odor, or that the package warned that “the sensation may result in a temporary feeling of discomfort.” Being a great friend, I allowed her to cheerfully smear the stuff on, and we waited.

Results were almost instantaneous. “Oh,” N said, wrinkling her nose. “It … something doesn't smell right.”

“Be more specific,” I encouraged her. “This is for posterity. And a sex blog.”

She was shaking her head in disgust. “It smells like something's burning!”

I was disappointed in her description, since this had already been used before and was, therefore, boring. “Anything else?”

She sniffed at her hand. “It's terrible. It also smells like old people.”

This was encouraging. “How? Explain.”

“It's like they tried to cover up the burning plastic with something cloying and floral, like someone sprayed old lady perfume on a tire fire.”

“Tire fire ...” I tried to remember the exact phrase for later.

N licked her palm. “I can't believe anyone would make this for its intended purpose.”

“What does it taste like?” I asked. I licked my own hand but it was disappointingly free of tingles or any other sexy sensation.

“Metallic. All I can taste is metallic. If I don't eat a piece of the kids' leftover Valentine's candy to get the taste out of my mouth, I am going to throw up,” she said.

“Well, smell me first. Is it different on me? Behind my ears?” I asked.

She leaned in. “Nope. The same.”

“How bad is it?”

She thought a moment. “Well, I probably wouldn't notice it if you were just standing there. But if I had my nose buried in there it'd be pretty unbearable. I can't believe they made that.”

I kept flexing my fingers for awhile, but I didn't feel anything. The only thing that stood out was when I got home about four hours later my dogs swarmed me. They tried to lick my fingers and where I'd wiped my hands on my jeans, as if I gave off the odor of rancid meat. It was unsettling, to say the least.

Second Try:

Okay, this was the serious one. I was feeling as if it was going to be a dud, given my first trial experience, but I had to do this thing right. To be perfectly honest, I'd never tried a product like this before, so I wasn't sure exactly what it was supposed to accomplish or how I was supposed to apply it. The pack gave explicit instructions, assuring me that I was going to “feel more—effortlessly” and went on to say that it was guaranteed to “work within minutes by heightening your sensitivity to touch—for deep, pleasurable sensations, sexual satisfaction and fulfillment.”

Well, since I can't smell, the whole grandma/tire fire thing is a good trade-off for that kind of promise,

Fire Down Below!!!

1. We, as a people, can be unsmart
"Surely there's a blog in this," writes a reader from Long Beach, California, directing my attention to Ow! Public Hair Grooming Injuries on the Rise, Researchers Find. Feel free to click over to the article, though the title pretty much spells it out.

It's not horribly surprising news. Razors, scissors and/or hot wax  + delicate nether regions = someone's goin' to the emergency room. I am more surprised by the fact that there are any researchers scoring funding to follow this important issue, let alone a team of them. The best part is they got paid to go through old Playboys where they were supposedly analyzing the amount of pubic hair on centerfolds, which is researcher-speak for "just reading the articles."

2. Stuff to Put Between Your Legs
 I know I've become completely unhip when I'm getting sexual information from the Sunday newspaper coupon supplement--home of ads for pastel colored stretch pants, for fuck's sake--but that's exactly what's happened. This Sunday's coupon supplement, clearly working blue, had ads for a Vibrating Tri-phoria Intimate Massager and Trojan Intensified Charged Orgasmic Pleasure condoms, which judging from the packaging (left) are like Emergen-C for your junk. Or you could just put a few Pop Rocks and some Dr. Pepper in your condom and save yourself some money.

For display purposes only

Meanwhile, Playtex is hawking "Fresh + Sexy Before and After Intimate Wipes" in tampon box-like packaging that says both "New!" and "Nouveau!" to give them that continental flair. You are to wipe yourself with these before sex to make sure that your snatch smells clearly of hand sanitizer. Then, afterwards, you leap out of bed to OCDishly scrub yourself of your lover's offending essence. The product, btw, is marketed toward both sexes, so that men can enjoy the gender equality of frantically "sanitizing" their balls, pre-love. I say we all just encase ourselves in thick plastic, ala your old lady neighbor's "good" living room furniture, and be done with it. Or, if you're on the go, just hang a couple of pine tree air fresheners down there for a quick fix.

3. Experience the Zestra Rush. Because I'm too Scared.

Via Twitter, a reader suggested I try out an arousal oil called Zestra and experience something called the Zestra Rush. I watched a video of a middle-aged woman online who was experiencing said rush there on camera and she seemed happy enough, so I asked the company for a sample. I was all into the idea until my friend and I decided to look up the reviews on Amazon and they were wretched. Stunningly so.  I became fascinated by the way the reviewers tried to capture the exact badness of the smell or horrific feeling it gave to the crotchal region. Behold these actual reviews.

--It smells bad, like a nauseating burnt candy smell, sweet and bad at the same time.
-- The smell is so disgusting powerful, basal and kind of oily soapy that it was hard for us to even stay focused.
-- ...the smell of the product reminds me of latex gloves.
-- It literally smells like a fast food restaurant.
-- The smell is so bad I gagged!....The worst part is I couldn't wash the smell away. I washed my hands 3 times and it wouldn't go away! 
 --I was so sickened by the stench of it that I was barely able to continue consummation!...My wife and I finished with the "process", but two minutes after we recovered, we turned to one another and said, "Ok, is it me or does this stuff smell like dirty bacon grease?"
-- It smells horrible. Like.. rotten pork mixed with plastic. And as if the smell wasn't off putting enough, after application I felt like I had fire crotch!...this just made it complete misery.
-- It was probably the equivalent of rubbing Oragel on your genitals. My husband said it was the worst thing he had ever tasted.
--My wife stated it was like rubbing kerosene on herself and lighting it.
-- I have tried the product and had a horrible burning sensation that would not cease. Had to literally keep cold water on the area to get some relief. DO NOT BUY, DO NOT ORDER A SAMPLE, STAY AWAY FROM THIS PRODUCT!!!

So now I am completely afraid to use it. But maybe some of you have no such qualms? I have four little packets of it that I am generously willing to give to four of you if you're into the fire crotch thing. (There were some good reviews...you might be one of the ones who like it...)

If you feel like playing fast and loose with your groin and trying some of this stuff, just drop me a line or leave a comment saying you want some. (Don't worry, if you leave a comment and don't specifically say you want some, I'm not forcing it upon you.)

Anyone feeling brave? First come, first served...
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Reader Mail 2: Son of Reader Mail--It's Alive

Happy Reader Mail Day, darling!

Apart from all those ignorant fucks who left in a huff when I outrageously wrote that gay people should be able to love whomever they want, IBWMW readers are a smart, open-minded, curious lot. And other readers are always asking what you all might think about...everything. Like the writers of these letters below. Feel free to answer if you feel called to do so, because I'm feeling a little Quaker Meeting-like today.  (Note: I am very bad about responding promptly to reader mail, hence the post-Christmas theme in the first letter. Let's just pretend it's few weeks ago and make do, shall we?)

Letter #1:
From B: Have you considered an article (or poll of your readers) along the lines of "Did you get the sex you wanted for Christmas?" It could be only a husband thing, but I always want some kind of special bedroom stuff- something beyond the ordinary fucking- for every gift-giving occasion, and I never get it. I wonder if other couples do this... instead of buying something as a gift, do something nice in bed? Do wives like this as a way to save money, or do they hate the pressure of it, or think it makes the holiday "dirty?" I'd be fascinated to hear other wives and husbands talk about this...

Anyone? Thoughts on sex as holiday gift idea?

Letter #2:
From Lady J, who in lieu of the True Wife's Tale she's been meaning to write (a "really boring one," she says, "for balance"), got all hepped up on the Necessity of Foreplay after trolling about on mummy blogs and finding  The Authoritative New Parents' Guide to Sex After Children.

I was a bit personally outraged by some of the advice, and I kept thinking that you and your readers would be the go-to people for opinions about this advice.  In particular I really struggle with the author's assertion that "foreplay is icing.... and... wastes precious time." especially in the context of sex after you've had babies.  In no particular order, here are the reasons why I object to this assertion:

* If you're breastfeeding (I am) it changes your hormonal balance and makes your vagina drier than it might otherwise be - so foreplay is essential for the necessary physical lubrication for penetration not to be painful
* If we skip foreplay it's difficult for me to even be in the mood for penetration (mental lubrication, if you will)
* Given that most women don't achieve orgasm from penetration, skipping over the bits that are pleasurable to women would seem to imply that their pleasure isn't as important as the man getting his rocks off
* Skipping foreplay for me is skipping the most enjoyable bit of the experience
* If the man is subject to erectile dysfunction, or doesn't last long once penetration has begun (not necessarily dysfunctional, just "short-fused" shall we say - not necessarily a problem either) then it's certainly a case of wham-bam-thank you-ma'am, where the man is replete and satisfied and the woman is just getting warmed up when it's all over (and then in the article it says you can have "afterplay, if there's time" - in other words, if there's an interruption and/or no time, mama misses out again)
* I think that foreplay and love play in general lead to a feeling of closeness between partners, and if you leave this out repeatedly then you are leaving out a level of closeness essential to maintaining a healthy relationship
* Just cutting straight to penetration seems to be privileging penetration over other sorts of closeness and lovemaking, which seems to be buying into/influenced by porn culture
* If you always leave out the foreplay (and this is a big fear of mine) you set a precedent for it not being a requirement /part of lovemaking any more, and it's possible that your partner might think it's no longer required at all in the future (my husband already has to be reminded to begin at the beginning, not in the middle of things, if he wants to get me in the mood for sex)
* (I have a whole bunch of issues surrounding sex, and or but) it feels to me as if by always saying "yes" to your husband, no matter how inappropriate the timing or how much you DON'T feel like having sex, and then JUST having penetration which does nothing for you, you really are just servicing him and his needs, and it feels very clinical and unloving (lie back and think of England/ a woman's duty etc etc).
I know that random mummy blogs are not necessarily the most reputable sources of information, but this one has really triggered some stuff for me. I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on this article and my reactions to it - and does anyone else think/feel like this??  (When you're new to a town, without many friends and also at home all day with 2 pre-schoolers it's hard to get adult input/feedback, especially on more sensitive subjects like this).
Thanks for the excellent content on IBWMW - I can't afford to pay for a subscription (every cent counts here as we're on one income with 2 pre-school children) and I'm exceedingly grateful that I can still access the content for free.  

That's all for today, oh, wait except for this one that came via the sometimes wee bit sketchy IBWMW Facebook page from someone I will refer to as "Harder Fucker man."

Letter #3:
I am Harder Fucker man from Bangladesh.I have strong dick.My fucking during time minimum 45 minit,any unsatisfied lady can contact with me satisfied fucking.

I was notified via email that it had been posted on the page, but by the time I got there, it had disappeared. I'm guessing one of y'all deleted it, but I prefer to imagine that Harder Fucker man had a Great Enlightenment and re-thought his "I have strong dick" girl-wooing technique. Or, if not that, he is registering Harder Fucker Man at the International Kick-Ass Superhero Name Registry in Helsinki.

Until later,
xoxox
jill

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Kissless Marriage + Girl Crushes. That is, Reader Mail.

I don't want sole responsibility for ruining a reader's life with bad advice, so I submit these reader questions to you, Random Internet Stranger. Be gentle with them, will you?

1. Kissless Marriage
This question came in via Twitter:  Is it weird that my wife doesn't like to kiss me?

Hmmm, maybe. To me, kissing is somehow more intimate that actual banging. Maybe that's why prostitutes tend not to kiss their clients, saving that for their real lovers (Like I really know. This "knowledge" is based on, probably, 1980s Cosmo articles and the Xavier Hollander book-- The Happy Hooker--I snuck and read when I was a kid.)

Kissing is also important in all kinds of biological ways, only some of which we're beginning to understand (see also: On the Benefits of Someone Who Can Kiss the Hell Out of You.)

However, I have found that some of my older married friends have recently become way less interested in kissing their mates. Other sexual things are a-ok, it's just the kissing. I attribute this to:
--a). a subconscious pulling away from their mates.
--Or b.) my half-baked theory, as follows: maybe as women age and their hormones start to recede, some of them do sort of a reverse of what happens in puberty. Remember when you were a kid and kissing seemed so completely gross? Then hormones kick in, and kissing suddenly sounds like a very very good idea. Well, what if as hormones kick back out, kissing starts seeming a bit gross again? Maybe? Any opinions on my cockamamie theory?

None of this, however helps the poor Twitter fellow above because when I asked him if she'd liked kissing him in the past, he replied "No. Good point." So, if you've got some kissing insight for him, let's hear it.

2. Girl Crushes

Wrote Anonymous:  Have you ever written on the topic of married women developing crushes on their girlfriends who are also married... having it be mutual, and openly discussing it with their husbands - and somewhat exploring it? Not sure if this topic is of interest to you.  For obvious reasons it is of interest to me, ha!

I haven't written about it, so I told her if she was feeling brave and/or literary, she could write about it, True Wife's Tale-style.

Which she did:

Unfortunately I'm not literary... but I was feeling rather brave. So I wrote a VERY brief and light version of my true wives tale... however, I feel like I'm not able to actually do it justice. I felt compelled to share my little story, knowing that I'm not the only one that this has happened to.
Cheers! 

Wow! She’s got a great ass! Oh, she’s beautiful! Look at her amazing boobs! We do that all the time to each other..to other women...to our girlfriends. Well, what happens when you start noticing every amazing part of one of your own friends, who you also happen to think is just an all around amazing woman? What happened to me when I started doing this was the development of a full-on girl-crush (and for the record, I've never been into women before.) I not only noticed, and appreciated every sexy curve, I started fantasizing about kissing her... then touching her, then fucking her in every way imaginable. This went on for months. Then I started to notice her looking at me. But I wrote it off, thinking that she was just that type of person who made really good eye contact with other people. It was not possible that we both had the hots for each other... after all, we were both happily married with beautiful children. And this shit only happens in porn movies (well, at least the porn movies that I like)!

After months and months of fantasizing, and really amazing eye contact and lots of ‘innocent’ flirting, I decided to tell her in a very innocent way that I had a girl crush on her. This took every bit of courage I had. I could not believe my good fortune, when she admitted it was mutual. So now what?! I had already shared my crush on her with my husband – who loves girl-on-girl dirty talk, and who was fully encouraging me to kiss her, or hell, let’s just all have a threesome!

To make a very long (a two-year saga with lots of emotional ups and downs) story short... kissing her was amazing, feeling her skin, was the most delicious thing I’ve ever felt, and while we’ve never actually fucked, I would do so in a heartbeat. However, now our relationship can be defined as strictly friends, who truly adore each other and who allow ourselves a private guilt-free self-indulgent wild fantasy from time-to-time.

And yes, I’m in love with her. And yes, I’m still in love with my husband. And most importantly I love myself for being able to balance being in love with two people. And I also love being able to compliment her on how damn sexy her ass is!

Thank you Anonymous for sharing your story, though I'm a bit unsatisfied. I want to hear about the "two-year saga with lots of emotional ups and downs" that you yaddayaddayaddaed away and why this is a fuck-free situation. But then, I am nosy, see above blog slogan, particularly the bit about "staring rudely."

3. ...And The Rest

The IBWMW Facebook page just hit 1,000 fans. Whee! It was kind of like watching a speedometer flip to zeros in a car traveling 4 miles/hour, but you know, better.

And a gigantic thank you to those of you who bought stuff through Amazon via the link in the upper right corner, thus allowing me to feed my young this week. I would love to thank you personally, but all buyers are completely anonymous. However, I do see what is bought and I have to admit I have a few questions for whoever it was that bought the Friday The 13th Jason Voorhees Axe Costume Accessory, Black, One Size.

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