I continued to live a sex toyless life and didn’t really think twice about it. Weren’t sex toys mainly for women anyway? And the ones that were marketed towards men seemed to serve as a replacement for a vagina, which wasn’t really my scene. So how would they ever figure into my sex life, unless they were anal beads, cock rings or poppers?
It’s an undeniable trope in modern humor to have the woman be a perfectly normal, capable member of society — right up until she’s PMSing, at which point she becomes a many-headed hydra, only there to scream and complain, occasionally stopping to eat an entire pan of brownies and cry.