Over the past five years, I have owned, experimented with, enjoyed, and even shared a combined total of eight different vibrators. The earliest versions are no longer in my possession, after having been worn out or gifted to friends and lovers, but some still remain. Of those remaining, some are a little sad. As batteries die and the motors stop working as well as they used to, frustration and sadness build every time that I turn them on and they don't return the favor as effectively as they used to. Thus, when confronted with three of my once-favored battery-operated items in the world, looking down on them, a feeling of helplessness takes over as I sit there, naked and in need.
Then, after sharing my misfortune with one of my dear friends, he does something truly wonderful for me: He gives me the gift of new adult toys. My faith in the rabbit is restored when a newer, shinier, gold one arrives in the mail with my name on it. Somehow, it manages to be even better than I remember. All of my recent let-downs and anxiety are put to rest when I am finally satisfied once again. Hence, the satisfied grin of a woman who has experienced the Gold Standard. (Well, Gold Standard Jack Rabbit, that is.)
Then, after sharing my misfortune with one of my dear friends, he does something truly wonderful for me: He gives me the gift of new adult toys. My faith in the rabbit is restored when a newer, shinier, gold one arrives in the mail with my name on it. Somehow, it manages to be even better than I remember. All of my recent let-downs and anxiety are put to rest when I am finally satisfied once again. Hence, the satisfied grin of a woman who has experienced the Gold Standard. (Well, Gold Standard Jack Rabbit, that is.)
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