The Disasters of the Fake Hymen
My boyfriend did not want to break my hymen. There is probably a certain sect of men who get off on popping cherries like they’re a row of bubble wrap blisters, but I’m not a girl and this wasn’t my first time. And my hymen was going to be messy. These are probably all reasons my boyfriend was less than enthusiastic about this little experiment. 
A couple of months ago my editor told me about Joan of Arc Red, a fake hymen made in China and marketed mostly in Japan. Essentially, it is a piece of plastic with a bit of dye inside designed to let a sullied woman pretend her precious membrane is still intact and appear to bleed upon intercourse. Yes, Joan of Arc might have been a murderous delusional schizophrenic psychopath, but at least she was always a virgin. When my editor originally told me about this thing, the idea was to get someone with a real vagina to test-drive it. A couple of days later, however, I stumbled upon this article in New York magazine. I sent him a link to the bad news, he asked if I’d like to test it out in my butt, and here we are.
When I first proposed this experiment to my boyfriend he said yes in the abstract, but when the time for participation arose so did his excuses for not doing it. He thought it would be sloppy and asked if they were made in China, as if his balls might somehow get lead poisoning from it. The only thing that didn’t arise was the one part we were going to need to get the job done. Who knew that fucking a guy with a butt hymen would be so unappealing to a red-blooded gay American male? 
After a long week of nagging and some negotiation, we put the towel down on the floor and got to work. Each box is wood paneled, so it looks like a million 80s rec rooms where real hymens were busted while Porky’s played on HBO. Inside, on a delicate pink satin pillow, are two foil packets, each containing a hymen. At first I didn’t understand why you’d need two of them. By using the second one, wouldn’t you be letting your partner know you’d faked it the first time? By the end of the evening, however, it all made sense. 
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The Disasters of the Fake Hymen

My boyfriend did not want to break my hymen. There is probably a certain sect of men who get off on popping cherries like they’re a row of bubble wrap blisters, but I’m not a girl and this wasn’t my first time. And my hymen was going to be messy. These are probably all reasons my boyfriend was less than enthusiastic about this little experiment. 

A couple of months ago my editor told me about Joan of Arc Red, a fake hymen made in China and marketed mostly in Japan. Essentially, it is a piece of plastic with a bit of dye inside designed to let a sullied woman pretend her precious membrane is still intact and appear to bleed upon intercourse. Yes, Joan of Arc might have been a murderous delusional schizophrenic psychopath, but at least she was always a virgin. When my editor originally told me about this thing, the idea was to get someone with a real vagina to test-drive it. A couple of days later, however, I stumbled upon this article in New York magazine. I sent him a link to the bad news, he asked if I’d like to test it out in my butt, and here we are.

When I first proposed this experiment to my boyfriend he said yes in the abstract, but when the time for participation arose so did his excuses for not doing it. He thought it would be sloppy and asked if they were made in China, as if his balls might somehow get lead poisoning from it. The only thing that didn’t arise was the one part we were going to need to get the job done. Who knew that fucking a guy with a butt hymen would be so unappealing to a red-blooded gay American male? 

After a long week of nagging and some negotiation, we put the towel down on the floor and got to work. Each box is wood paneled, so it looks like a million 80s rec rooms where real hymens were busted while Porky’s played on HBO. Inside, on a delicate pink satin pillow, are two foil packets, each containing a hymen. At first I didn’t understand why you’d need two of them. By using the second one, wouldn’t you be letting your partner know you’d faked it the first time? By the end of the evening, however, it all made sense. 

Continue

You know how, growing up, your mom was always like, “Don’t have sex until you get married or else your husband will throw you in the garbage and you’ll die a dirty, trash-covered slut”? But then the hormones came and you got too horny and started boning dudes like it was your day job? In hindsight, you probably wish you could go back in time so that you could lose your virginity all over again, right? 
Well, whores, do I have some good news for you: Reverting your vagina to its pre-popped state is possible. (Not in the medical sense, of course, but in the by-the-standards-of-the-poorly-educated-and-ultrareligious sense.) In fact, many women around the world are doing it at this very moment!
CONTINUE

You know how, growing up, your mom was always like, “Don’t have sex until you get married or else your husband will throw you in the garbage and you’ll die a dirty, trash-covered slut”? But then the hormones came and you got too horny and started boning dudes like it was your day job? In hindsight, you probably wish you could go back in time so that you could lose your virginity all over again, right? 

Well, whores, do I have some good news for you: Reverting your vagina to its pre-popped state is possible. (Not in the medical sense, of course, but in the by-the-standards-of-the-poorly-educated-and-ultrareligious sense.) In fact, many women around the world are doing it at this very moment!

CONTINUE