During a bout of sexual frustration with myself, I glanced over at my husband one evening and said, “I think I’m going to order a strap-on.” We had never discussed pegging in the past, but his reply was simply, “I have no plan to stop you from doing so.” Way to be both coy and unexpectedly open-minded, dear husband. So with glee, I bought traditional harnesses from online mega giants – leather and strappy ones with cute lace-up bits like a corset or washable vinyl straps with an adjustable waist.

What I received were knotted tangles of pinchy D rings and uncomfortable straps. Some adjusted like a belt, relying on holes that were too tight or too loose. Some chaffed me raw – ugly straps everywhere, tapping thighs and scratching delicate skin, coming undone after being tied up. And the dildos recommended or attached to them were too small, too hard, didn’t fit … Some slid around painfully or were impossible to remove with ease. They placed too much pressure on weird spots because I couldn’t get them to stay snug to me. To top it all off, they took forever to get on – especially drunk which is my preferred post-5pm state. I ended up looking like a trussed, rum-soaked ham on its way to a BDSM club. I hated the look and feel of all those easy-to-acquire harnesses. It wasn’t intimate and fun, it was industrial and (stupidly) a lot of work.

Our pile of unused and unfulfilling equipment gathered dust. He was sad and going unpegged. I was sad and not getting to peg. Then I went…