Review: We-Vibe Wish

Kate Sloan

“It’s like two Tango motors in one toy,” said one of the managers at the sex shop where I worked, and my ears perked up so hard they practically fell off.

The We-Vibe Tango is my favorite vibrator. It’s my bedside buddy, my travel-size titillator, my ‘gasmic go-to. It comes with me on sex dates and on vacations. I use it solo, with partners, and various combinations thereof. It’s simply the strongest and rumbliest vibrator of its size (with the possible exception of the Swan Wand Mini, which I sadly don’t yet own), so nothing has yet unseated it as my number-one toy-bag essential.

You can imagine, then, how excited I was when I heard the We-Vibe Wish was like two Tangos in one. And in my favorite shade of bright turquoise, no less. “I Wish I owned one,” I started joking every time I showed it to customers at the shop, but it wasn’t really a joke.

The good folks at Luxury Vibrators sent me a Wish to try, and I’m sad to say it didn’t quite live up to my hopes. There’s a lot to love about it, but it’s not as flawless a fit with my personal anatomy and vibrator usage style as I had expected.

First, let’s talk about the motors. Yes, plural – because there are two of them. As it’s been explained to me, the vibrations shift back and forth quickly between the motors, creating what We-Vibe calls PowerPulse™: “a new, ultra-powerful vibration sensation that feels like waves of pleasure.” Indeed, it whirrs and rumbles unlike any other vibe I’ve felt of this size; the quality of vibration reminds me of the lower speeds on the Magic Wand Rechargeable, which is a very, very good thing.

That said, when I put pressure on the toy, I can feel the motors’ rhythm skipping like an arrhythmia. It doesn’t take much pressure to activate this flaw; sometimes it happens just from me lightly resting the toy against my clit. This is apparently a common problem with dual-motor toys: it was observed by many a reviewer about the Jimmyjane Form 2, for example. In the case of the Wish, it doesn’t interrupt the sensation on my clit too much, but it is definitely noticeable and often distracting, and makes me worry that the motors’ function will decline as time goes on.

As with most newer We-Vibe toys, this one is controllable via the company’s We-Connect app. While I love using my phone as an intuitive remote for more complex toys, it’s less useful for a simple vibe like the Wish: it’s easier and quicker to just cycle through modes using the vibe’s one button than to connect the toy to the app. You can use the app to let a partner control your vibe from across the room or across the planet, though, so that’s cool. And while the toy’s button lets you cycle through only three steady speeds (more on that in a sec), the app gives you more granular control: you can swipe or tap your way through 10 different steady speeds, plus several vibration patterns, plus make your own patterns if you are so inclined.

At the store, I used to tell customers that the Wish would be perfect for use during PIV – but now I regret that, because it isn’t really true. Despite its gentle, vulva-esque curve and squishy silicone housing, it’s just a little too big and bulky to comfortably fit between bodies, unless you’re intentionally leaving enough space between your pelvises. That curved shape also causes the Wish to make a rhythmic purring noise when a partner’s body moves against mine during intercourse. It sounds like a goddamn jaguar. “It was a bit distracting,” my beau said, tactfully, after a PIV sesh in which we were trying to be Seriously Kinky but just ended up Seriously Giggly because of those damn noises.

The other distracting factor: I was expecting the Wish to work like my ol’ faithful Tango, and it doesn’t. I thought it would have four steady speeds and four patterns, and that you’d have to cycle through all of them to get back to the beginning; that’s how the Tango works, and it’s not a perfect system, but I’m used to it and know how to do it in a hurry. The Wish has three steady speeds followed by seven patterns, which, as you might imagine, has been a bit of an adjustment for me. During PIV with a partner, I kept clicking to what I thought would be the highest steady speed, only to accidentally activate a pattern and fuck up my own impending orgasm. This is frustrating, but as with any vibrator, I could become accustomed to it if I was using this toy a lot.

It’d be less annoying to cycle through those ten modes if the Wish’s button was easier to locate and press in the heat of the moment. It’s smaller and flatter than the button on the Tango, takes a more thorough push, and feels tactilely similar to the magnetic charger port right next to it, so I have to look right at it when I press it, or I risk missing it altogether. This, again, would be mitigated if this was the only vibe I was using and I was therefore forced to get used to it, but that’s not the case. Even so: why does We-Vibe insist on only putting one button on most of their toys? I think everyone would be happier if they had an “increase speed/next mode” button and a “decrease speed/previous mode” button. It’d be way more intuitive than having to cycle through all the speeds and patterns to get back to the first one.

Shape-wise, the Wish is well-designed. Its pointed tip will appease those who like more pinpoint sensations like the Tango could deliver, while its edges and flat sides are ideal for broader stimulation or even full-body massage. In many ways, it feels like a wand vibe without the bulkiness and heaviness most of those toys suffer from.

It’s also just super cute. I love the way it looks in my hand: adorably turquoise, sensual but not overtly sexual, substantial but not massive. It’s the kind of toy that probably wouldn’t intimidate a partner (unless your partner is the worst), and that wouldn’t horribly embarrass you if you’d left it lying on your nightstand when company came over.

On top of all that, the Wish is 100% waterproof, charges magnetically (via a much better-developed system than the Tango’s frustratingly weak magnetic charger), and comes with a one-year warranty. I want to like it. We-Vibe tried so hard to make this a great toy. But the pressure-induced skips in vibration, plus the annoyance of having to cycle through all the modes, make it unlikely to join my roster of go-to vibes. It’s bigger than I’d prefer for usage with a partner, and more finicky than I’d prefer for usage alone. Dammit.

I’m still waiting for someone to make a decent competitor for the Tango. C’mon, vibrator industry. You can do it. I believe in you!

 

Thanks so much to Luxury Vibrators for sending me this product to review!

Links & Hijinks: Boners, Biting, & Rolled-Up Sleeves

Kate Sloan

• Hey. You can find meaning without monogamy. “People will accept or reject you for reasons that have nothing to do with you at all,” writes Alana Hope Levinson. “I know that sounds depressing, but it can also be liberating.”

• It’s okay if you don’t like making out! You just have to find partners who feel similarly, or are willing to compromise on this issue.

• This post is from 2013 but I only just discovered it: Sinclair Sexsmith shared tons of helpful info about biting during sex.

• Here’s the only article about Rachel Dolezal worth reading.

• My friend Caitlin wrote about her experiences with mindful masturbation and made me want to do some too!

• Why do some people fake their orgasms?

• “A woman’s orgasm shouldn’t be the goal of sex,” argues Jessica Schreindl, because defining orgasm as a goal makes sex into a high-pressure, patriarchal performance for everyone involved. I agree that orgasm shouldn’t be demanded or pushed for, if the person or people involved don’t want to have one – but for me personally, orgasm is an important part of sex and I very much appreciate partners who’ll give me one when I want one!

• This article about piss play is beautifully written. I adore Katie Sly’s work!

• “I want you to consider the possibility that the more chill you seem to guys, the less likely you are to find a guy who loves you for exactly who you are right now,” suggests Heather Havrilesky in an Ask Polly column that tugged at my utterly un-chill heartstrings.

• You can help relieve a partner’s PMS symptoms by talking to them and being supportive.

• Here’s the always-charming John McDermott talking about why dating-related slang like “ghosting” and “cushioning” normalizes bad behavior. I’m not sure how I feel about his argument – I think it’s useful to name behaviors like this so we can identify them, call people out on them, and explain why they’re unacceptable – but it’s nonetheless an interesting thought experiment in how language shapes our actions.

• Katie Tandy wrote a stunning piece about using kink to heal from trauma and it made me cry a whole bunch.

• The ever-clever Alana Massey on One Direction, non-toxic masculinity, and why teen girls love boy bands as deeply as they do. “When you’re part of a fandom, you’re never really alone if you don’t want to be,” she writes, reminding me of so so so many life-affirming experiences I have had in the throes of various obsessions with bands, movies, TV shows, musicals, books, and actors.

• Should boners be frowned on at nudist colonies?

• Yo, Planned Parenthood isn’t just for women. I am tired of the anti-feminist rhetoric which says any effort that only benefits women isn’t worth undertaking (women are people! women are valuable! women are a huge percentage of the population!) but it is nonetheless worth noting that Planned Parenthood helps a broad range of people.

• There are still people using Craigslist to find sexual partners, apparently.

• Forearms are hot and therefore rolled-up sleeves are hot. (I have been saying this for years!)

• My friend Tynan wrote about how sex doesn’t have to be a priority in your relationship, so long as your priorities line up with your partner’s.

• Fuck “stealthing.” WHY ARE (some) MEN LIKE THIS??

• Science misunderstands female desire and this contributes to our cultural idea that women are less libidinous than men. The truth is much more complicated! (In summation: “Women like having sex. They don’t like being socially punished for it.”)

• Suzannah Weiss went to a nudist resort and it helped her learn better boundary-setting skills. Amaze!

• Consensual non-monogamy has its own unique benefits that you can’t get to the same degree from monogamous relationships. Interesting!

• Here’s why some straight men have sex with other straight men.

• Alana Massey wrote about consumerism as a coping mechanism in the era of Trump. Yikes.

• “I’m sitting covered in cum on Christmas Eve in my mom’s basement with a wire hanging out of my ass; I’m a pervert.” Gotta love a good story of masturbation gone awry.

• I love writing that combines sex, gender, and fashion! Here’s a piece on the iconic imagery of a woman wearing a man’s dress shirt after sex.

• Here’s a primer on tentacle porn, incase you were wondering.

• The history of artificial insemination is a long and storied one.

• Why do men like to have sex with the lights on? Gosh, I have such a crush on John McDermott: “I’ve done it in all grades of lighting… Blazing morning sun, a pitch-black cave, beneath the soft glow of a streetlamp…” (Incidentally, one time I was making out pre-sex with a Tinder hookup while my bedroom’s overhead light was on, and he said, “Is there a lamp you could turn on instead? It feels like a hospital in here.” Thanks, pal.)

• Can a robot be a pickup artist?

• Gala wrote about why her divorce was a blessing. I’ve never been married but this reminded me lots of the final ~4 months of my last serious relationship: the crushing certainty that I needed to end things, but the absolute terror every time I contemplated doing so. In retrospect, I wish I’d bucked up and done it earlier!

• Let’s replace the dick pic with the dick code. (There’s also a vulva code. Here’s mine.)

On Love That Doesn’t Last

Kate Sloan

I thought about relationship longevity when my college boyfriend asked me to stop wearing antiperspirant with aluminum in it.

“It can give you breast cancer,” he said, “and you already have a family history of breast cancer, so you’re especially at risk. You should switch to one without aluminum. Please.”

I ran a quick risk-reward calculation in my head. Possible eventual breast cancer, in a medical system that knows how to treat it and will do so at no cost to me, versus a few decades of visibly sweaty pits. It seemed to me it was a risk worth taking. Plus there was that other matter… “I probably wouldn’t even get the cancer until my forties or fifties,” I responded, reasonably.

“So?”

“So why do you care? We probably won’t even know each other by then.” My words hung in the air. We peered at each other curiously. A stand-off.

“I care about you and don’t want you to get cancer,” he said, finally, answering exactly zero of the questions I’d implied.

I thought about relationship longevity when a friend asked me if I’d be with my boyfriend forever, and I scoffed, “God, no.”

She was shocked. “But you two always seem so happy! Is something wrong? Are you going to break up?”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “No! We’re very happy. I love him a ton. He’s my favorite person on earth.”

I watched the confusion stagnate on her face.

How do you explain to someone that love can be good even if it’s brief, in a culture that adamantly steers us away from that knowledge? How do you prove that what makes you happy now won’t make you happy forever, nor should it have to? How do you unlearn the trope that love’s only love if it lasts?

I thought about relationship longevity when one of the kids on the improv team I coached made a Facebook status: “I love my girlfriend sooooo much and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with her!” He couldn’t have been more than 15 years old.

Was it cynicism that made me roll my eyes, or just realism?

I cast my mind back to when I was 15. I thought I was in love with the purple-haired girl who’d recently dumped me. She was my first girlfriend, my first kiss, and my first break-up – yet I believed with my whole heart that she was irreplaceable, unrepeatable. I could marry that girl, I wrote in my journal, and it felt true, and maybe it was true; who knows.

When friends asked me why I was so fixated on this girl, the point I returned to again and again was: I could never get bored of her. Our conversations were so sharp and quick, our brains so well-matched, that we could debate and joke and argue forever and every moment would feel fresh.

Now her purple hair is black, and her eyes are sadder, and I can see that our hearts were as bad a pair as our brains were a good one. She wanted adventure; I wanted domesticity. She wanted independence; I wanted reliance. Sure, she never would have bored me, but I’m not sure that’s an altogether good thing.

I thought about relationship longevity when I met Bex. No friendship had ever formed so easily, quickly and solidly in my entire life. One day in November 2015, we were casual acquaintances who vaguely knew each other from Twitter and a bloggers’ retreat. The next day, we had had a threesome together, talked about sex and dating and flirting for hours, and become best friends. “Friendship cemented!” we crowed at each other over mac and cheese, and it wasn’t a joke.

If Bex had been a romantic interest of mine, instead of just a pal, friends would have told me to slow down. They would have said, “Whoa, that person drove nine hours to be with you on New Year’s Eve? Isn’t that a little intense?” They would have said, “You’re staying in that person’s house for five days and they’re letting you borrow their dildos? Isn’t it a little soon for that?” They would have said, “Hang on, you’re starting a podcast together? How do you know you won’t get into a fight and break up?”

But none of it scared me. None of it felt uncomfortable or rushed or ill-advised. Because I just knew. I knew we were meant to find each other in this weird world, I knew we were best friends in the truest sense of that phrase, and I knew we would be friends for a long time.

Sometimes you just know.

Wearing his shirt.

I thought about relationship longevity when I first met my current friend-with-benefits – because I wanted us to never be apart, and I don’t think he knew what he wanted.

Our first meeting was dazzling and disorienting. He talked about himself a lot but every word charmed and fascinated me. We talked for three or four hours over beer (me) and wine (him) and it felt like no time at all. I could’ve listened to him talk all night. And I would’ve, too, if he hadn’t gotten tired and wanted to say goodnight.

As is my M.O. as a shy person, I hadn’t opened up enough for him to see the real me – so he didn’t know we were meant to be friends. He showed me both his outsides and his insides, but he only saw my outsides, so he didn’t know our insides matched. He didn’t hear the jokes that cropped up in my head seconds before he made them, the emotional reactions that crossed my heart before they crossed his face.

When I went home and journaled my first impressions of him that night, I wanted to call him “the twin of my soul,” but that felt melodramatic, embarrassing, even in the privacy of my diary. That phrase floated around in my skull every time I saw him thereafter, though. Did you know you’re the twin of my soul? I thought but never asked.

It took months for me to relax around him, so it took months for him to see who I really was. But when he did, he knew too, I think. “I get the sense that you and I are going to be in each other’s lives for a long time,” he said to me once, slowly, as we sipped coffee at a diner. Harsh afternoon light filtered in behind him, and I shielded my eyes, but couldn’t conceal the grin that split my face. Finally, he understood. The twin of my soul.

Review: Sili Saddle

Kate Sloan

I’m conflicted about the Sili Saddle. It is, as its name suggests, silly. And yet it might also be useful for lots of people. People whose genitals are different from mine in many ways.

The product’s website describes it as a “super-soft non-penetrative manual vulvar stimulator.” It was apparently developed by a woman who had vulvar irritation and couldn’t have her genitals touched in the usual ways without pain. “It’s great for gentle solo stimulation and enhances partnered intimacy, acting as a soothing yet stimulating barrier when skin-on-skin friction is uncomfortable,” the product’s website explains. “It works beautifully as a non-vibrating pleasure pad for sensitive vulvas.”

This is a fantastic idea, and serves – I’m sure – a niche market that has always existed but has rarely been acknowledged. I know there are people who are reading this right now, eyes wide and mouth ajar, thinking: This! This is what I need!

I’m happy for those people. However, if you’re looking at this product and feeling mystified – a non-vibrating, flat disc of squishy silicone with a ridge along the underside?! – here are some other uses I’ve found for the Sili Saddle, as a person who doesn’t have recurrent vulvar pain or irritation:

Warm-up. Sometimes, if I start masturbating without getting myself turned on through porn or other means first, my clit is too sensitive to be touched right away. I can lay the Sili Saddle’s raised ridge over my clit, put my palm on its flat side, and move it around for some super gentle, indirect clit stimulation. I do this with lube if I want some slippery-slidey friction, or without lube if I’m more in the mood for anchored pressure. I don’t think I could have an orgasm this way unless I had gone several days without coming, was very turned on, and had maybe smoked a bunch of weed – but if your clit is more sensitive and your orgasms more easily induced than mine, you might like using the Sili Saddle in this way.

Orgasm deprivation. I could see the Sili Saddle being useful in a kink scenario where a dominant partner was purposely denying you sensation. “You’ve been so good that I’m going to let you touch yourself,” they’d say, and your eyes would light up – but then they’d slap the Sili Saddle onto your bits and add, evilly, “THROUGH THIS!” Then they would watch with devious amusement as you tried to eke an orgasm out of this toy. Ah, the delicious cruelty of it all!

Strap-on cushioning. When I worked at a sex shop, I heard customers complain all the time that strapping on during sex can result in uncomfortable friction and impact against the genitals of the wearer. My shop didn’t carry the Sili Saddle, but I wish it had; I could’ve sold dozens! The soft silicone of this toy is ideal for absorbing the impact of thrusting, so you won’t feel bruised after a thorough strap-on sesh. Furthermore, that ridge along one side can provide some gentle clit stimulation for the strap-on wearer that’ll add to their enjoyment.

Vibration mitigation. If you have, say, a Magic Wand, and you find it sometimes (or always) feels too intense, you can use it through a Sili Saddle to help manage those sensations. This is different from using the vibe through clothes because a) the Sili Saddle is thicker, so it subdues the vibration better, and b) it has that ridge, which sits against your clit and focuses the vibrations while softening them. I love using my Sili Saddle and Magic Wand this way when I’m getting warmed up ‘n’ turned on, especially because it keeps the vibrator from numbing my genitals before the party even gets started.

PIV padding. As someone who often sleeps with scruffy cis men, I am familiar with the perils of scratchy dude-pubes against my sensitive clit. If pubis-on-pubis contact during intercourse is uncomfortable for you, whether due to pubic hair, pressure, or some other factor, you might wanna slide a Sili Saddle in between and see if it improves things. For me, this is more of a “decreasing discomfort” thing than an “adding pleasure” thing; if I want to amp up my pleasure during intercourse, I’m likelier to grab a We-Vibe or a small handheld clit vibe.

As you can see, the Sili Saddle can be used in many ways and would, I’m sure, be an invaluable tool to folks with super sensitive and/or irritated genitals. However, that’s not me, so I doubt I’ll use mine much after I’m done this review.

It sure is pretty, though.

 

Thanks to the folks at Sili Saddle for sending me their product to review!

Trust Your Body & Say What You Mean: A Sweet & Salacious Tarot Reading

Kate Sloan

The older I get, the more I appreciate people who perform emotional labor for myself and others. These skills are undervalued, underemphasized, rendered almost imperceptible by this culture which says emotional labor isn’t labor at all. Anyone who makes that claim simply doesn’t understand how much they have benefited from the emotional labor performed for them by people in their lives. If they saw it for what it was – if they recognized it while it was happening, instead of breezing past it in an entitled huff – they would be in awe. They would be grateful.

I feel this way about so many people in my life who perform emotional labor for me regularly: the friends who sit with me calmly when I’m sad, the partners who remember which small things upset me and which small things bring me joy, the therapist who puzzles through my motivations with me, even the baristas and waiters who remember my usual order. They are all giving me an exquisite gift made from compassion, intuition, and mindfulness. I do not take it for granted.

I feel this way about Carly from Tiny Lantern Tarot as well. Our reading last year opened my eyes to many worrisome patterns I was perpetuating in my dating life; Carly helped me see these issues by reading my cards, drawing on her knowledge of me, listening to my questions and concerns, and simply being present with me. (Carly uses both she/her and they/them pronouns, so I’ll be alternating between those in this post.)

This past week I went back to see Carly for another reading – specifically, a reading about my sex life, which Carly calls a “pussy fortune.” (They’re quick to point out, of course, that this language doesn’t resonate with everyone and there are many other things you could call a sexy tarot reading. My pun-brain is whirring… A “pre-dick-tion”? A “whore-oscope”? A “get-off-ecy”?!)

I’m a sex-nerdy, kinky, non-monogamous queerdo, so if I’m going to open up to someone – in either a personal or a professional capacity – I need them to be cool with all those things, or even involved in those communities themselves. Carly totally gets all of that, and I feel 100% comfortable unpacking sex/kink/poly things with her. If you are similarly inclined and live in or near Toronto, I would highly recommend booking Carly for a reading; their knowledge of and comfort with these areas of sexuality sets me deeply at ease.

She made me a cup of coffee and we settled onto the couch in her little turquoise office. We discussed some questions I’ve been wondering about: 1) How can I adjust my approach to dating to attract more people into my life who I’m emotionally and sexually compatible with and who want to date me? and 2) What areas of sexuality should I explore next, in my personal life and in my work? (Sex is inextricable from work for me. My sex life fuels my sex writing; my sex writing fuels my sex life. I cannot discuss one without the other.) I watched as they shuffled their gently glinting black-and-gold cards and laid them out methodically on a navy chest repurposed as a table, and we began the reading.

It was a long reading, full of thoughtful silences and the internal whir of one “aha!” moment after another. One of my favorite things about Carly’s readings is that she leaves long, comfortable silences in between sentences and cards. As a journalist, improvisor, and podcaster, sometimes silences make me panic – they’re “dead air” and that’s bad, right?! – but they are incredibly useful in a setting like a tarot reading. Sometimes I need a good ten or twenty seconds to absorb and process something one of us has just said – to turn it over in my mind and look at it from all angles – and it’s in those long pauses that I connect the dots, find the common threads, reach revelations. In everyday life, we so rarely get the opportunity to take a breath, think, and decide at our own pace what we want to say next. Carly holds space for their clients in ways both figurative and literal, and it is such a gift.

They pulled many cards and we discussed many facets of my dating life, sex life, and work life, so I won’t go into detail about all of it – but here are a few key concepts that have stuck with me in the intervening days…

Listen to your body. Trust your body. Let your brain take a backseat. This message came up in multiple cards. It’s something I frequently struggle with, as an anxious weirdo who over-intellectualizes and over-analyzes sex. Sometimes my body really does know best, and that’s hard to accept; I want to be able to conquer all problems with sheer brainpower! But my body is at least as smart as my brain, and I need to let it do its thing.

This has come up in my dating life a lot lately. I’ll force myself to go on a first date (and then sometimes a second or third date!) with someone because they seem like a good fit for me, logically. But my body knows different: my shoulders get tense as I enter the plan in my calendar, my eyelids feel heavy as I force myself out of bed the morning of the date, and I’m fraught with anxious nausea as I slide my shoes on and head out the door. There is a difference between good-nervous and bad-nervous, and I can distinguish between the two if I silence my brain-chatter and listen to my body. Nine times out of ten, my body has a better sense of whether someone is good for me than my brain does, and I should heed that more often.

This lesson also plays into more established relationships. It’s been over a year since I found out my ex-FWB was chronically abusive to other partners of his, and I keep reflecting on all the warning signs my body noticed that my brain decided to ignore. I didn’t feel good around him, I never got excited to go see him, and he often said creepy things that grated on me – but I kept assuring myself these were small things that ultimately didn’t matter, since the sex was good and he was, on the surface, “nice.”

Contrastingly, I recently had sex for the first time with a new beau who I believe is actually nice, and afterward, he breathed in my ear, “I have a good feeling about you.” I had a good feeling about him, too – in my body, not just my brain. Our bodies are wiser than we give them credit for.

Say what you mean, and mean what you say. One of the cards Carly pulled for me this time, the Seeker of Feathers, also came up in our last reading, which I gather means I haven’t learned its lesson yet. This card is all about honesty, assertiveness, telling the truth, even when doing so is hard. I think most of us could stand to get better at this.

Sometimes I tell dates I like them and want to see them again when I kinda don’t. Sometimes I tell dates I’m cool with us keeping things “chill” and “casual” when I utterly am not. Sometimes I tell dates I’m “not sure what I’m looking for” when I actually know I’m looking for a committed primary partner.

Sometimes I tell partners I don’t care that I didn’t have an orgasm, when I actually do care. Sometimes I tell partners what they’re doing feels great, when I actually know what would feel better. Sometimes I tell partners our sexual incompatibilities are solvable, when I’m actually frustrated to catastrophic levels with one crucial mismatch or another.

I get myself into trouble when I lie, distort the truth, or omit pertinent details. I end up going on dates with people I barely like, making out with people I’d rather just cuddle, having sex with people to whom I should’ve said “good night” hours ago. To be clear, these experiences are consensual; they just lack the passion and enthusiasm and “oh yes”-ness that I consider vital. If there isn’t mutual excitement in a romantic and/or sexual interaction, why am I even there? What is the point?

I told Carly about how I struggle with letting people down, even when I know I’m not feeling a connection. She reminded me that dating is inherently risky and most people know that. There is always a risk of rejection, sadness, conflict, disappointment. That’s just part of the deal. I don’t have to protect people from that. Trying to postpone those feelings often just worsens them in the end. “Stop going on second dates with people you know you don’t want to keep seeing,” Carly advised me. Okay. I’ll try.

Consider your intentions. One of the cards Carly drew – the Ten of Feathers – was meant to represent how others observe or interpret me, and it indicated a fall. Chaos. Mental health struggles, addiction, loneliness, fears.

I felt a rush of embarrassment when they explained this to me. I flashed back to Kat Williams advising against being a “car-crash blogger” – a blogger who only writes about bad things that happen to them, in an effort to get clicks and sympathy. I often write about difficult stuff – but is that what I want to be known for?

As I blathered about this internal crisis, Carly reminded me that having a public image laced with conflict and chaos isn’t necessarily a bad thing. And I realized they were right. I’ve received so many nice notes from readers telling me that my writing about soul-crushing experiences – unrequited love, rejection, insecurity – helped them understand and get through tricky situations of their own. This was a nice reminder that I should consider my intentions with regards to my work: writing sad stuff isn’t necessarily bad, it should just be something I deliberately choose to do, if and when I do it.

We also talked about how I should be more deliberate and intentional in my dating life as well. If I’m going out on multiple first dates a month with new Tinder suitors, I should ask myself: why? What am I hoping to get out of this? Am I actually having fun, or am I just doing this because I feel like I’m “supposed to”? If I’m having sex with a lot of people, is it actually as fun and exciting as I want it to be, or is it just exhausting? Am I pursuing romantic relationships because they’re what I’m “supposed to” want, or do I actually want them?

These are all questions for which my answers tend to oscillate, but the important thing is that I’m pondering them at all. Things get messy when I wander into new endeavors with no idea what I’m really doing – whereas, if I know exactly what I’m hoping to get out of an experience, I’m likelier to have a good time and get what I want.

Just like last time, I left Carly’s house feeling inspired, emboldened, and amped up. Their perspective, advice, and the simple act of listening to me had helped me shake loose some areas that had felt stuck. On the subway ride home, I stared at the notes I’d scribbled in my journal, and it felt like I was looking at a road map to a more satisfying sex life.

If you want to book a reading with Carly – which you should, ’cause she’s fucking terrific – you can make arrangements to come see her here in Toronto. They also occasionally travel to other locales; follow them on Twitter for updates on that. Carly also writes a tarot advice column called Ask a Feelings-Witch, to which you are welcome to submit questions.

I’m never entirely sure how I feel about witchy, magical practices – whether I believe they actually help or they’re just made-up silliness – but what I know about tarot is that it bridges a gap between the magical and the practical. The cards tell you some things, and you can connect those messages and lessons to the events of your own life, in ways that are often shockingly illuminating. Whether you believe tarot is a mystical practice imbued with the supernatural, or merely a secular window into your own psyche, I think it can be a helpful tool. After all, if you ask me, all the best things in life have a little ambiguous magic in them – and the wisest people are those who are open to mystery, to the unexplainable, to being surprised by life.