I want to love every toy I receive, to be able to return to them time and time again, rewarded with effortless, eyelid-fluttering orgasms. I want all my toys to inspire reviews akin to glittering neon signs proclaiming “lives up to the hype!” Then there’s this thing called harsh reality that butts in and spoils my fantasies and I receive a toy that literally makes me cry. This toy is named is Eva.
Eeeeva. This little bugger is the Indiegogo-funded brainchild of Dame, a Brooklyn-based company founded by sex educator Alexandra Fine, and mechanical engineer Janet Lieberman. Their goal was to create the world’s first hands-free, strap-free, non-intrusive clitoral vibrator to close the “pleasure gap” – the fact that penis-folks are twice as likely as vagina-folks to have an orgasm during sex. Eva became the most highly crowdfunded adult product in the history of the internet.
I find the shape very cute; adorable even. I had fun making it jump all over my boyfriend’s body.
I have compiled a list of the various amusing things people around the internet have referred to Eva as, and they are as follows:
- “Deer Tick Jetpack.”
- “Bluecooch (as in, Bluetooth).”
- “Billy Crystal’s character from Monster’s Inc. between a woman’s vaginal lips.” (Vaginal lips?)
- “One of those wind-up toys that you set running across the floor to annoy your cat.”
- “Cross between a lobster claw and a gynecologist’s speculum with spring-loaded trilobite appendages.”
- “Looks like one of those beetles from The Mummy Returns movie.”
- “A rubberized vibrating octopus-looking thingy.”
- “Some sort of feminism propaganda.”
- “A choking hazard.” (what?)
Eva is a water boatman-shaped, medical-grade silicone-encased lifeform with flexible arms intended to tuck under your labia majora to stay in place, without obstructing the vagina during intercourse. Its arms stretch 2.25″ and the widest part of the abdomen measures 1.25″. Eva has three speeds, one big button, and comes with a satin drawstring storage pouch. The toy blinks to let you know the battery is low, and includes a USB charger and an 120 volt wall adapter. Color options include lavender and aqua (teal).
The membrane of silicone coating Eva’s “abdomen,” also covers the charging port, so you actually have to pierce its hymen to charge it the first time. This compromises Eva’s impermeability, making it merely splashproof (not waterproof). Grr…
I keep seeing people angrily admonishing the imaginarily-inattentive lovers of those interested in this couples toy. One man even said, “You guys out there who climax and roll over without worrying about your partner’s fulfillment need to be loaded on to a rocket and shot into the sun.” While I agree with this statement (no vibrator is going to solve the problem of having a negligent monster for a mate, duh), I rarely read reviews of couples’ toys where the purchaser says they bought it to compensate for their significant other’s lackluster performance. Even if they did, why shouldn’t they? Everyone deserves sexual satisfaction, including people in shitty relationships, and not everyone is even physically able to orgasm without a vibrator. The willingness to invite toys into the bedroom is an indication of a good lover, it doesn’t need to be loaded with implications of rejection or inadequacy. Can we stop blindly promulgating that narrative please?
Anyway! Pinky and I went to work to test it out. He turned on our salt lamp to “set the mood” (mood name of: silly), we put some lube on the parts, and I futzed around with it until I could get it to stay put. In the manual, they state that you “may need to gently pull each vaginal lip over each wing to better secure Eva in place.” Again with the vaginal lips! The labia majora belong to the vulva. I guess it’s better than Buzzfeed calling them “labia lips” (lips lips).
I realized lube on the labia majora caused the bug to slip out, so I toweled off and put it back in. Our first puh-zish was missionary, but the bug kept banging up against my clit in a painful way. It did not bode well. It fell out, he lost his boner, and I cried.
The second time I put it in, I got on top. It stayed in (precariously), and I had orgasms. It was good, but I would’ve had an easier time having orgasms without it. Here’s why:
- Unfortunately, it’s not squishy at all, but rather solid apart from the soft coating, so it hits up against me as he thrusts. Ouch, ouch, ouch.
- When correctly placed and fully charged, the vibe is buzzy (appropriate in light of its insectoid form), numbing, and only marginally stimulating; the vibrations are far from intimidating as the pitch suggests. I still need to press myself against something to get full contact with the device so the vibrations penetrate. I can’t get the necessary pressure for deep vibrations unless Pinky lay perfectly still, so as to prevent the aforementioned thrust-ouches. It might be an excellent adjunct for people who like to hump pillows and such to masturbate, since they’re a lot softer than human pubic bones.
- There’s enough room for his penis to penetrate me, but Eva is not small enough so as to be completely immune from being knocked about, causing it to dislodge and fall out.
- I spent the whole time worrying about it falling out. I can orgasm by rubbing my clit during intercourse, and if I want to go for a vibrator, I would rather orgasm beforehand using a larger, more powerful vibrator that I’m not afraid of displacing than perfecting the art of keeping the bug correctly snug in my rug at any given moment.
- It doesn’t work with every position.
I tucked Eva under my flip flaps and danced without pants throughout the house and it stayed put. So why did it keep falling out during sex? What was the difference between frolicking and fucking? Well, for one, I was spreading my legs. So I tried that, and sure enough the beetle fell out. Each time, I put it back in, spread my legs, and each time it fell out. It stays in securely when my legs aren’t spread because my fleshy labia hold it there…but the fleshiness tends to flatten out when you’re spread eagle, releasing the tension of the bug’s arms.
On several occasions, I fully charged it, popped it onto my clitoral region, turned it up full blast, and let it do its thing in an ambient way. I’ve had the Eva buzzing my clit while writing the majority of this review. Tonight, the charge lasted 1 hour and 23 minutes. I did not orgasm during that time. For someone who climaxes easily and often, that is saying something.
Eva died on me mid-masturbation, and maybe it was the masturbatory haze scrambling my brains, but I briefly thought that it was dead dead, as in: non-rechargeable, spent, done for…and I wasn’t all that sad. My response was the mental equivalent of a shrug of the shoulders.
The first notes I took writing this review were, “Everybody thinks [Eva] is going to suck, but I have high hopes.” Sadly, those hopes were dashed. Like a tick, Eva wants to suck you dry [financially]: you’re paying $105 for essentially nothing more than a glorified, run-of-the-mill, three-speed bullet vibe with a fancy cradle. Eva wasn’t for me, but I’m looking forward to Dame’s future products, including the upgraded, next generation of this toy.
Thank you, Dame Products, for sending me an Eva to review in exchange for an unbiased review!
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