[Moya] Old essay: Tinkering
I'm about to do a bunch of toy reviews, so now seems like a good time to reshare this; I wrote it back in 2001 or so, I think? It doesn't include some of my earliest explorations, but it certainly explains a great deal about how central curiosity and exploration are in how I think about my sexuality.
Apologies for any formatting weirdness. Also, I'm posting it basically unread, since I'm all muzzy-headed at the moment. May go back and add some clarifications, corrections, and updates at some point, may not. Also, I suspect some of my age guesses about how old I was are over-estimates.
TINKERING
I've always been a tinkerer. My curiosity led me to systematically disassemble almost anything on which I could get my hands and small collection of tools. My poor Transformers(tm) repeatedly suffered the indignity of dissection with my Swiss army knife, and I had boxes of odd parts from dead clocks and other small appliances piled in my closet. I also had a rather unfortunate fascination with Rube Goldberg, so the efficiency of my designs frequently took a backseat to the "coolness" factor of the execution.
Discovering my sexuality certainly didn't change my inventor's nature; it just changed the focus of my tinkering. I don't remember exactly when I started masturbating, but I do remember when I figured out that I could put things inside my vagina, and if I found the right things, it felt kind of "weird" and pretty nice. At about age 12 I went from obsessively trying to determine every possible fun combination of legos, erector sets, construx, and lincoln logs to every possible fun combination of household items and my vagina.
My quest was admirably facilitated by excellent sex-ed, primarily from my Mom, a nurse, and the collection of sex information books that were neatly filed next to the other reference books in our basement library.
About that time I was sent on a weeklong vacation to visit a friend I hadn't seen since I was three. Samantha* and I stayed up 'til all hours, ran around her farm, went blueberry picking, and talked about
masturbation. It was the first time I ever discussed the topic with a peer (my mother had explained and condoned it previous to that). I believe Samantha was the first person to suggest that I experience
whirlpool jets. I was in awe of her expertise. She and I had twin beds in her room, and after one rather prolonged conversation on the topic of the vagina (it seems we were quite certain that it was the
only source of pleasure - Funny, I don't recall my parents reading me Freud as a bedtime story), we took an assortment of bendy straws, some balloons, and some rubber bands, and fashioned these utterly bizarre self-inflatable toys. We tucked the straws into each other, end to end, tied a balloon onto one end, and lay in our separate beds that night trying valiantly to keep the balloons properly inserted while attempting to inflate them by blowing into the other end of the straw assembly. Unsurprisingly, I don't recall it being
a particularly mind-blowing experience, but it was weird, and fun, and I loved having a "partner in crime".
Being a resourceful young researcher, after that summer I rather systematically raided our house for anything that was longer than it was wide, and proceeded to "experiment" in the most scientific sense
of the word. At that point more curious than aroused, I particularly remember attempting to accurately gauge the shape, depth, volume and contours of this fascinating little pocket between my legs. I started with slender paintbrush handles, studiously noting the depth to which they could penetrate, but quickly decided
that "pokey" was bad, and moved to Crayola markers. The caps on the markers had a bad habit of falling off and leaving my hands covered in water-soluble ink, so I continued my search for appropriate tools, surreptitiously rummaging through the house until I ran across what would become my favorite set of toys for a considerable period of time. It was a box of assorted taper candles of various widths, and I quickly stole it away from its home in a little-used drawer, and straight up to the growing collection of proto-sextoys in my bedroom. These were wonderful! For the first time the arousal of my curiosity was overwhelmed by a much more basic and physiological arousal. I was on to something here, I was certain of it.
Soon enough, however, my inventor's nature kicked in again, and I became certain I could devise a tool that would suit me considerably better than anything I'd yet found in the house. I entertained a brief interest in "ribbed" designs, rummaging through my mother's button jar to find an assortment of large-diameter buttons, which I strung tightly together. An interesting but ultimately inefficient experiment (it wobbled, and not in any convenient or useful way), it didn't hold my interest for very long.
Having spent a good deal of my earlier years whittling twigs into, well, very smooth twigs, I decided to make use of my dad's small basement workshop. I explored outdoors until I found a wonderful branch about an inch or so in diameter, and still quite green. With an ear out for any possible interruptions to my work (I quickly devised a hiding place in the basement for my half-completed projects), I carefully peeled off the bark, whittled smooth a six-inch section of the branch, and cut the basic form for the toy - a smooth cylinder, gently conical at one end. For several days I spent most of my afterschool time in the basement, tenderly sanding and polishing my creation (I did have the sense to know that splinters were not my friends). When it was complete I oiled it thoroughly with vegetable oil, snuck it upstairs, and stashed it behind the books on one of my bedroom bookcases.
The days of planning and creating my new toy had served as an extended psychological foreplay, and my first experience with this toy simply encouraged me to get even more creative and inventive. I loved my new toy (it continued to serve me well until the end of high school, when it got lost in a move - I still wonder who found it), and the new experiences it provided, but I wanted to explore other possibilities. Interested in the "stretchiness" factor of my vagina, I made illicit use of a childrens' candlemaking kit to cast a large chunk of reddish-purple wax (the result of rather indiscriminately mixing a number of left-over colors) and then carved it into another, larger, dildo with a more pronounced "head". My eyes were definitely bigger than other parts of my anatomy - it didn't get much use.
Around the time that I decided that there were limits to what I wanted to try to fit into my vagina I began a more thorough exploration of my clitoris. My best friend and I had discovered, in part thanks to Samantha's advice, that the jets on the whirlpool in the women's locker room of the local health club were a great deal of fun to "lean" against, if lacking in uninterrupted privacy. My thoughts quickly turned to the magical power of water. Unfortunately, our house was lacking in detachable showerheads so, again, I improvised. After trying everything I could think of to make use of the bathtub spout, with little success, I determined that I could unscrew the showerhead completely and have a single steady stream of water that way. It took a monkey wrench the first time, but from then on the showerhead in that bathroom was always
just loose enough for me to conveniently remove it when I wanted to lock myself in for a while. This quickly became an "Old Faithful", like my handmade dildo, but it didn't stop me from exploring more possibilities. Curiosity was my personal, private foreplay with myself, more central to me, sexually, than any of the attractions and beginning explorations with the boys I knew (although they added fuel to the fire when I was alone).
Toward the middle of high school I found and absconded with the coil-operated back massager, tucked away in disuse under the sink, and quickly had a new favorite sex-toy. To my frustration, however, this wasn't a toy I could modify, and I couldn't create my own "home version" either. How dull! Well, not really. It still felt wonderful, but I wanted some ability to modify to my personal tastes. Failing in any inspiration on that front, I decided to get creative about my use of the toy. I knew that the intensity of my orgasms varied, depending on circumstances. I was deeply curious as to the higher limits of that intensity, and this curiosity led me into my first tentative explorations of bondage. I knew that the highest peaks I could hit were limited by the point at which my own body movements removed my "essential bits" from the stimulus, so, with no previous knowledge of bdsm, I went in the only logical direction I could think of - "If movement's the problem, strap it down". It being the 80s, when fashion-belts were a must-have accessory even for the fashion-impaired like myself, I made use of the twenty or so mismatched belts in my possession to rig up a rather complex "around the mattress" self-bondage system. It wasn't actually true bondage, in that I had to be able to get myself in and out of it, but in combination with my other toys it was a spectacular success, diminished only by the infrequency with which the house was empty or asleep enough for me to feel sure I wouldn't get "caught".
By the age of 16, and my first substantive sexual interactions with another person, I had established a sexual pattern that continues to this day. If I think I might be interested in an idea, I explore it solo; as in all of the best lab classes, I tend to do so in a combination of readings and hands-on "work". I learn my reactions and limitations - both physical and psychological. It becomes part of my fantasy life, but it isn't until an appropriate partner or partners comes along that I take that exploration to the bedroom with another person. It might be noted (in support of Jocelyn Elders) that I decided to remain a "virgin" considerably longer than most of my peers, and that my initial sexual experiences with a partner were hands-down amazing, rather than fumbles and frustration.
By the time I arrived at college I was looking at the entire world through the lustful and creative eyes of an avowed sex-toy fan and creator. Everything seemed to be a possibility for new realms of pleasure. Sadly, I lost all of my toys in the move to college (I really only miss my first dildo), and it would be another year before I was of legal age to purchase "marital aids". This didn't actually occur to me until I was introduced to my first sex-toy catalog by a close friend. Despite its miniscule pictures, and complete lack of useful reviews of the products, I was fascinated. I had discovered the wonderful world of commercially produced toys, and soon was avidly reading toy catalogs as both consumer and designer, simultaneously lusting for and critiquing the designs I saw (my organizational side was dying to reformat the catalog, as well). My first purchase (when I turned 18 my sophomore year) was a "Pink Pearl", a simple bullet vibrator that rocked my world, at least as long as its rather shoddy manufacture allowed.
Over the course of my college years I collected relatively few new toys, but a broad array of new experiences. I continued to make creative use of objects in my environment, and occasionally purchased a new vibrator or dildo, but given my limited budget, I decided instead to invest primarily in reading material. First feminism, then erotica and queer theory began to fill my bookshelves. It was the chance to go beyond the dozen or so books in my parents' collection, and to further discover the connections between my mind and my body, my intellect and my clit. I became a vocal sex advocate, sharing what I was learning at every opportunity. I discomfited my psychology professor by doing a research project that showed the erotica/pornography distinction to be related to little more than what appealed to the person rating it. I discovered my own bisexuality, and later my fondness for kink (as if the bondage bed in high school hadn't been a big hint). I spent college educating myself about sexuality and the multitude of sexual minority communities. I became a GLBT activist, and I finally learned a term that described to me how I saw myself - Feminist Sex Activist.
My first and only college toy creation was actually a graduation gift for an ex-boyfriend and his girlfriend. We had spent the night talking, and had, unsurprisingly, gotten to the subject of sex. When the conversation turned to bondage, and the lack of easily available cuffs in our little corner of the world, I pulled an "all-nighter" sewing a pair out of brown suede and red velvet, with embroidered knot-work decoration. It was my first attempt at kink-related leatherwork, and I was rather pleased with the results, although in retrospect I see a number of structural details I would do differently.
It wasn't until I graduated that I was able to really start creating my own toys again, but by then I was bursting with ideas. I became a regular patron of the almost local (thirty mile distant) "adult" store. The staff eventually knew me by name, and started refusing to even bother to id me. I took more than a bit of perverse pleasure in the surprise that my presence elicited from the almost exclusively male customers. My regular visits there, as I avidly browsed, and purchased what I could afford, quickly became something of an event for my more reticent friends. We began late-night runs with a truckload of mixed-gender college kids that combined sex education and titillation in a remarkably entertaining way. As the acknowledged "expert" among my friends, it was my job to attempt to explain the potential uses, advantages, disadvantages, and technical flaws of any and every gadget, gizmo, lube and lotion in the place. At times I found myself inadvertently educating other patrons as well, which suited me fine, and seemed to give the employees a chuckle.
When I began to seriously design toys again this was my hardware store. I now had a much better idea of what I wanted to create than when I was younger, as well as more information about what materials were advisable, thanks in large part to the wonderfully informative nature of Good Vibrations' toy catalog. My specific product requests, complaints about mechanical flaws, and toy design discussions with the staff definitely garnered looks from even the most jaded customers. I can't say that I felt the least bit bad about that; it struck me as a rather effective means of doing some general "female sexuality" education and simultaneously increasing the consumer savviness of the other patrons.
Almost as soon as I moved into my own apartment I set about exploring new methods of toy creation. I had gotten the idea of melting down dildos from an artist whose show featured an array of creatively manipulated toys, and I soon figured out that I could do this over the kitchen stove (low heat, people, low heat), if my housemates and I didn't mind the house reeking of latex for a day or so. They seemed willing to tolerate it just for the amusement factor of being able to say "I have to get off the phone - my roommate is making sex-toys, and she wants me to come check it out". I also discovered that it wasn't hard to accidentally melt the plastic shells of the standard bullet vibrators with hot latex. There have been more than enough "Whoops" moments like that, but I'm getting gradually better at the craft, and still having a hell of a time doing it. I clearly recall sitting on the bed with my lover, miniature screwdriver in hand, surrounded by the innards of several toys that were sacrificed to the gods of technical innovation, and having a rollicking conversation about the best ways of improving the underlying designs. During another of his weekend visits we purchased several massaging showerheads and disemboweled them to determine the nature of the internal "massager" mechanism (It's wonderfully simple and elegant, by the way).
At this point in my life, I have a fully stocked sex-toy design area in my workshop, pages and pages of sketches of new designs, methods for melting latex on the stovetop, and a collection of toys, purchased, created, or modified, that rivals anything I've seen in another private home. I've learned to repair store-bought toys with faulty connections using an inexpensive soldering iron. I'm still discovering which materials work for creating molds, and which don't, and I've collected information on the US patent process (which is why I'm not telling you more). Since it's damnably expensive to even try to patent a design, and I don't want to talk to a manufacturer until I've at least attempted to protect myself, I've refocused on specialty leatherwork such as embroidered cuffs, with an eye toward investing any profits in the patent process. My libido still seems to have a direct connection to my inventiveness - I rarely have better nights, alone or with my partner, than when I've been designing and creating during the day. Happily for me, he's been well up to the challenge of being both sounding board and contributor, and of integrating new ideas and toys into our sex life on the frequently short notice presaged by "Hey, I just thought of something…"
*All names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
___________________________________________________
FWIW, I still play around with toy design off and on, but haven't really pursued professional design work and patenting all that much in recent years, and am unlikely to head back in that direction in the foreseeable future.
Apologies for any formatting weirdness. Also, I'm posting it basically unread, since I'm all muzzy-headed at the moment. May go back and add some clarifications, corrections, and updates at some point, may not. Also, I suspect some of my age guesses about how old I was are over-estimates.
TINKERING
I've always been a tinkerer. My curiosity led me to systematically disassemble almost anything on which I could get my hands and small collection of tools. My poor Transformers(tm) repeatedly suffered the indignity of dissection with my Swiss army knife, and I had boxes of odd parts from dead clocks and other small appliances piled in my closet. I also had a rather unfortunate fascination with Rube Goldberg, so the efficiency of my designs frequently took a backseat to the "coolness" factor of the execution.
Discovering my sexuality certainly didn't change my inventor's nature; it just changed the focus of my tinkering. I don't remember exactly when I started masturbating, but I do remember when I figured out that I could put things inside my vagina, and if I found the right things, it felt kind of "weird" and pretty nice. At about age 12 I went from obsessively trying to determine every possible fun combination of legos, erector sets, construx, and lincoln logs to every possible fun combination of household items and my vagina.
My quest was admirably facilitated by excellent sex-ed, primarily from my Mom, a nurse, and the collection of sex information books that were neatly filed next to the other reference books in our basement library.
About that time I was sent on a weeklong vacation to visit a friend I hadn't seen since I was three. Samantha* and I stayed up 'til all hours, ran around her farm, went blueberry picking, and talked about
masturbation. It was the first time I ever discussed the topic with a peer (my mother had explained and condoned it previous to that). I believe Samantha was the first person to suggest that I experience
whirlpool jets. I was in awe of her expertise. She and I had twin beds in her room, and after one rather prolonged conversation on the topic of the vagina (it seems we were quite certain that it was the
only source of pleasure - Funny, I don't recall my parents reading me Freud as a bedtime story), we took an assortment of bendy straws, some balloons, and some rubber bands, and fashioned these utterly bizarre self-inflatable toys. We tucked the straws into each other, end to end, tied a balloon onto one end, and lay in our separate beds that night trying valiantly to keep the balloons properly inserted while attempting to inflate them by blowing into the other end of the straw assembly. Unsurprisingly, I don't recall it being
a particularly mind-blowing experience, but it was weird, and fun, and I loved having a "partner in crime".
Being a resourceful young researcher, after that summer I rather systematically raided our house for anything that was longer than it was wide, and proceeded to "experiment" in the most scientific sense
of the word. At that point more curious than aroused, I particularly remember attempting to accurately gauge the shape, depth, volume and contours of this fascinating little pocket between my legs. I started with slender paintbrush handles, studiously noting the depth to which they could penetrate, but quickly decided
that "pokey" was bad, and moved to Crayola markers. The caps on the markers had a bad habit of falling off and leaving my hands covered in water-soluble ink, so I continued my search for appropriate tools, surreptitiously rummaging through the house until I ran across what would become my favorite set of toys for a considerable period of time. It was a box of assorted taper candles of various widths, and I quickly stole it away from its home in a little-used drawer, and straight up to the growing collection of proto-sextoys in my bedroom. These were wonderful! For the first time the arousal of my curiosity was overwhelmed by a much more basic and physiological arousal. I was on to something here, I was certain of it.
Soon enough, however, my inventor's nature kicked in again, and I became certain I could devise a tool that would suit me considerably better than anything I'd yet found in the house. I entertained a brief interest in "ribbed" designs, rummaging through my mother's button jar to find an assortment of large-diameter buttons, which I strung tightly together. An interesting but ultimately inefficient experiment (it wobbled, and not in any convenient or useful way), it didn't hold my interest for very long.
Having spent a good deal of my earlier years whittling twigs into, well, very smooth twigs, I decided to make use of my dad's small basement workshop. I explored outdoors until I found a wonderful branch about an inch or so in diameter, and still quite green. With an ear out for any possible interruptions to my work (I quickly devised a hiding place in the basement for my half-completed projects), I carefully peeled off the bark, whittled smooth a six-inch section of the branch, and cut the basic form for the toy - a smooth cylinder, gently conical at one end. For several days I spent most of my afterschool time in the basement, tenderly sanding and polishing my creation (I did have the sense to know that splinters were not my friends). When it was complete I oiled it thoroughly with vegetable oil, snuck it upstairs, and stashed it behind the books on one of my bedroom bookcases.
The days of planning and creating my new toy had served as an extended psychological foreplay, and my first experience with this toy simply encouraged me to get even more creative and inventive. I loved my new toy (it continued to serve me well until the end of high school, when it got lost in a move - I still wonder who found it), and the new experiences it provided, but I wanted to explore other possibilities. Interested in the "stretchiness" factor of my vagina, I made illicit use of a childrens' candlemaking kit to cast a large chunk of reddish-purple wax (the result of rather indiscriminately mixing a number of left-over colors) and then carved it into another, larger, dildo with a more pronounced "head". My eyes were definitely bigger than other parts of my anatomy - it didn't get much use.
Around the time that I decided that there were limits to what I wanted to try to fit into my vagina I began a more thorough exploration of my clitoris. My best friend and I had discovered, in part thanks to Samantha's advice, that the jets on the whirlpool in the women's locker room of the local health club were a great deal of fun to "lean" against, if lacking in uninterrupted privacy. My thoughts quickly turned to the magical power of water. Unfortunately, our house was lacking in detachable showerheads so, again, I improvised. After trying everything I could think of to make use of the bathtub spout, with little success, I determined that I could unscrew the showerhead completely and have a single steady stream of water that way. It took a monkey wrench the first time, but from then on the showerhead in that bathroom was always
just loose enough for me to conveniently remove it when I wanted to lock myself in for a while. This quickly became an "Old Faithful", like my handmade dildo, but it didn't stop me from exploring more possibilities. Curiosity was my personal, private foreplay with myself, more central to me, sexually, than any of the attractions and beginning explorations with the boys I knew (although they added fuel to the fire when I was alone).
Toward the middle of high school I found and absconded with the coil-operated back massager, tucked away in disuse under the sink, and quickly had a new favorite sex-toy. To my frustration, however, this wasn't a toy I could modify, and I couldn't create my own "home version" either. How dull! Well, not really. It still felt wonderful, but I wanted some ability to modify to my personal tastes. Failing in any inspiration on that front, I decided to get creative about my use of the toy. I knew that the intensity of my orgasms varied, depending on circumstances. I was deeply curious as to the higher limits of that intensity, and this curiosity led me into my first tentative explorations of bondage. I knew that the highest peaks I could hit were limited by the point at which my own body movements removed my "essential bits" from the stimulus, so, with no previous knowledge of bdsm, I went in the only logical direction I could think of - "If movement's the problem, strap it down". It being the 80s, when fashion-belts were a must-have accessory even for the fashion-impaired like myself, I made use of the twenty or so mismatched belts in my possession to rig up a rather complex "around the mattress" self-bondage system. It wasn't actually true bondage, in that I had to be able to get myself in and out of it, but in combination with my other toys it was a spectacular success, diminished only by the infrequency with which the house was empty or asleep enough for me to feel sure I wouldn't get "caught".
By the age of 16, and my first substantive sexual interactions with another person, I had established a sexual pattern that continues to this day. If I think I might be interested in an idea, I explore it solo; as in all of the best lab classes, I tend to do so in a combination of readings and hands-on "work". I learn my reactions and limitations - both physical and psychological. It becomes part of my fantasy life, but it isn't until an appropriate partner or partners comes along that I take that exploration to the bedroom with another person. It might be noted (in support of Jocelyn Elders) that I decided to remain a "virgin" considerably longer than most of my peers, and that my initial sexual experiences with a partner were hands-down amazing, rather than fumbles and frustration.
By the time I arrived at college I was looking at the entire world through the lustful and creative eyes of an avowed sex-toy fan and creator. Everything seemed to be a possibility for new realms of pleasure. Sadly, I lost all of my toys in the move to college (I really only miss my first dildo), and it would be another year before I was of legal age to purchase "marital aids". This didn't actually occur to me until I was introduced to my first sex-toy catalog by a close friend. Despite its miniscule pictures, and complete lack of useful reviews of the products, I was fascinated. I had discovered the wonderful world of commercially produced toys, and soon was avidly reading toy catalogs as both consumer and designer, simultaneously lusting for and critiquing the designs I saw (my organizational side was dying to reformat the catalog, as well). My first purchase (when I turned 18 my sophomore year) was a "Pink Pearl", a simple bullet vibrator that rocked my world, at least as long as its rather shoddy manufacture allowed.
Over the course of my college years I collected relatively few new toys, but a broad array of new experiences. I continued to make creative use of objects in my environment, and occasionally purchased a new vibrator or dildo, but given my limited budget, I decided instead to invest primarily in reading material. First feminism, then erotica and queer theory began to fill my bookshelves. It was the chance to go beyond the dozen or so books in my parents' collection, and to further discover the connections between my mind and my body, my intellect and my clit. I became a vocal sex advocate, sharing what I was learning at every opportunity. I discomfited my psychology professor by doing a research project that showed the erotica/pornography distinction to be related to little more than what appealed to the person rating it. I discovered my own bisexuality, and later my fondness for kink (as if the bondage bed in high school hadn't been a big hint). I spent college educating myself about sexuality and the multitude of sexual minority communities. I became a GLBT activist, and I finally learned a term that described to me how I saw myself - Feminist Sex Activist.
My first and only college toy creation was actually a graduation gift for an ex-boyfriend and his girlfriend. We had spent the night talking, and had, unsurprisingly, gotten to the subject of sex. When the conversation turned to bondage, and the lack of easily available cuffs in our little corner of the world, I pulled an "all-nighter" sewing a pair out of brown suede and red velvet, with embroidered knot-work decoration. It was my first attempt at kink-related leatherwork, and I was rather pleased with the results, although in retrospect I see a number of structural details I would do differently.
It wasn't until I graduated that I was able to really start creating my own toys again, but by then I was bursting with ideas. I became a regular patron of the almost local (thirty mile distant) "adult" store. The staff eventually knew me by name, and started refusing to even bother to id me. I took more than a bit of perverse pleasure in the surprise that my presence elicited from the almost exclusively male customers. My regular visits there, as I avidly browsed, and purchased what I could afford, quickly became something of an event for my more reticent friends. We began late-night runs with a truckload of mixed-gender college kids that combined sex education and titillation in a remarkably entertaining way. As the acknowledged "expert" among my friends, it was my job to attempt to explain the potential uses, advantages, disadvantages, and technical flaws of any and every gadget, gizmo, lube and lotion in the place. At times I found myself inadvertently educating other patrons as well, which suited me fine, and seemed to give the employees a chuckle.
When I began to seriously design toys again this was my hardware store. I now had a much better idea of what I wanted to create than when I was younger, as well as more information about what materials were advisable, thanks in large part to the wonderfully informative nature of Good Vibrations' toy catalog. My specific product requests, complaints about mechanical flaws, and toy design discussions with the staff definitely garnered looks from even the most jaded customers. I can't say that I felt the least bit bad about that; it struck me as a rather effective means of doing some general "female sexuality" education and simultaneously increasing the consumer savviness of the other patrons.
Almost as soon as I moved into my own apartment I set about exploring new methods of toy creation. I had gotten the idea of melting down dildos from an artist whose show featured an array of creatively manipulated toys, and I soon figured out that I could do this over the kitchen stove (low heat, people, low heat), if my housemates and I didn't mind the house reeking of latex for a day or so. They seemed willing to tolerate it just for the amusement factor of being able to say "I have to get off the phone - my roommate is making sex-toys, and she wants me to come check it out". I also discovered that it wasn't hard to accidentally melt the plastic shells of the standard bullet vibrators with hot latex. There have been more than enough "Whoops" moments like that, but I'm getting gradually better at the craft, and still having a hell of a time doing it. I clearly recall sitting on the bed with my lover, miniature screwdriver in hand, surrounded by the innards of several toys that were sacrificed to the gods of technical innovation, and having a rollicking conversation about the best ways of improving the underlying designs. During another of his weekend visits we purchased several massaging showerheads and disemboweled them to determine the nature of the internal "massager" mechanism (It's wonderfully simple and elegant, by the way).
At this point in my life, I have a fully stocked sex-toy design area in my workshop, pages and pages of sketches of new designs, methods for melting latex on the stovetop, and a collection of toys, purchased, created, or modified, that rivals anything I've seen in another private home. I've learned to repair store-bought toys with faulty connections using an inexpensive soldering iron. I'm still discovering which materials work for creating molds, and which don't, and I've collected information on the US patent process (which is why I'm not telling you more). Since it's damnably expensive to even try to patent a design, and I don't want to talk to a manufacturer until I've at least attempted to protect myself, I've refocused on specialty leatherwork such as embroidered cuffs, with an eye toward investing any profits in the patent process. My libido still seems to have a direct connection to my inventiveness - I rarely have better nights, alone or with my partner, than when I've been designing and creating during the day. Happily for me, he's been well up to the challenge of being both sounding board and contributor, and of integrating new ideas and toys into our sex life on the frequently short notice presaged by "Hey, I just thought of something…"
*All names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.
___________________________________________________
FWIW, I still play around with toy design off and on, but haven't really pursued professional design work and patenting all that much in recent years, and am unlikely to head back in that direction in the foreseeable future.