Female condoms. What is there to say other than I've been sexually active with many, many partners over many, many years and have never had occasion to use one. I have boned the world over and never once has any of my multitudes of partners (#SlutPride) ever mentioned them as a possibility. Honestly, up until my editor asked me to try one for a story, I was pretty sure they disappeared after the '70s, along with crystal deodorant and driving around with a baby in your lap.
But no! Female condoms are still very much a thing and, as it turns out, are one of the only options for women who wish to remain without child or STIs when they or their partner are allergic to latex. Since many female condoms are made from nitrile — which is actually stronger than latex! Go nitrile! — they are more in line with the needs of people with ~sensitive~ privates. Not only that, but according to Leola Reis of Planned Parenthood, since the female condom also covers more of the the outside skin of the vulva, it can reduce your risk of skin-to-skin STI transmission. And as an added bonus, the outer ring can rub up against the clitoris during sex, which: SWOON!
I'm always down to get my clit friction (clit frict?) on, so let's do this.
The thing: FC2 Female Condom. According to Planned Parenthood, the female condom is a "pouch" with "flexible rings at each end" that you push into your vagina and your partner then puts his dick in. (Are you wet yet?)
The location: My bedroom. We have a king-size bed, and if all the warnings about the giant size of these things are true, we were were gonna need all of it.
The music: Nothing. This was going to take all of my concentration.
The mood: Kinda grossed out? I don't know why. There's just something about female condoms that's gross. (OMG, I'm part of the problem!)
The act: OK, so first off. These things really are huge. Like, so big. If you're trying to carry one of them around in your back pocket, you might want to size up your jeans. On the bright side, if it turns out you don't like using them for sex, I'm pretty sure they can be easily repurposed into tote bags.
Since you're supposed to put the female condom in before you fool around, I squatted in my bedroom and tried to push it in correctly. I followed along with the Planned Parenthood tutorial, which is as sexy as it was fun! Not! I felt like I was trying to stick Woollies’ green bag bag up my cooter. I had to reposition it a few times before thinking — or more like hoping — that I did it right. Then, I waddled to the door and called my sexual guinea pig (husband) in. After he quizzed me about why I still work for Cosmo and asked if I had sent out any résumés recently, he got it up and I lay back on the bed spread-eagle. The following is the very real conversation that happened when he looked between my legs.
Husband: WHAT. IS. THAT.
Me: My vagina?
Husband: NO, KRISTA. NO.
Me: Fine! It's a female condom, and yes, it is gross and slimy, but we are both feminists, and it's about time you put your dick where your mouth is!
Husband: What does the female condom have to do with feminism?
Me: This is a social and political attack! Do you want to have sex or not!
Husband: I want to have sex.
Me (points to vagina and the bag inside of it): Well, then.
He then proceeded to (squeakily) enter me, and we had sex. It was ... interesting. Like having sex with a very loose-feeling condom on. It immediately felt ineffective and wrong, and there were entirely way too many screechy noises emitting from my vag.
I tried to move it around a little to get the promised clitoral stimulation going, but I couldn't quite position it right without holding it in place with my hand. Which, fine, but not the mind blowing clit-stim I was after. (I have to be honest: The whole time we were doing it, I wasn't sure it even was in correctly, and I silently said a thank you to my birth control pills.)
As for my husband, he said it felt like my vagina was slimy and coated in plastic, which is exactly what every girl dreams her husband will call her vagina on their wedding night. He finished and then fished the thing out of — making sure to squeeze and twist the outer ring to keep his seed (barf) inside the pouch — and then he heaved a deep sigh. And when I write, "heaved a deep sigh," I mean that literally. He heaved a deep sighed. I might have to quit.
The aftermath: I don't know. It wasn't, like, the worst, but I'm not quite sure why they're necessary? There are latex-free condoms that fit the penis better, as they are not the size of a blue Ikea bag. Female condoms are also not ~quite~ as effective as male ones — 95 percent versus male condom's 98 percent, according to the Family Planning Association — and they're more expensive, bulkier, and yeah? Did I mention their size enough? BECAUSE DAMN, GIRL. But then again? One woman's giant slime bag is another woman's perfect protection. So, give it a try! Because, again, if it doesn't work out, you can always turn it a bag or a hand puppet, or what have you.
Source: Cosmo US