When I was in my first year of university, I was poor as dirt. I was 18 years old and it was my first time out on my own. And unlike most of my friends, who had secured a dorm in resident housing, I’d forgotten to send in my forms, so I ended up bunking in a friend-of-a-friend’s mom’s basement. After trolling the school bulletin boards (I didn’t even have my own cell phone), I managed to find a graduate student in need of a roommate.
I’ll never forget that apartment. The old guys across the hall grew pot, which my roommate and I gladly accepted when they gifted some to us. We had a small kitchen, carpeted floors, and a big balcony. I would hang my head out the window to smoke and watch the neighbours. The apartment was freezing during winter, but I couldn’t find a thermostat in my room. I gave up and suffered all season long, only to later discover it was behind my closet door. Yes, I was that lazy and stupid.
I didn’t even have furniture when I moved in, so I fashioned drawers out of cardboard boxes and shoved them into my closet. My desktop computer sat on the floor and I did my homework hunched over in a sort of made-up yoga position. My bed was two twin mattresses shoved together with a foam roll-out on top. I ate basmati rice with canned tomatoes for dinner every night. I got a job at a Chinese bakery, where I sat in the back greasing pans for six hours a day, then cleaned them off for the remainder of the shift. I was fired after about a month. I got mono and almost dropped out (but didn’t.) Even the flies on my wall knew I was a mess.
Unable to purchase my own luxuries, it was like a Christmas charity drive every time I inherited a friend’s old pair of Dr. Martens or my mom would buy me “the nice” shampoo. Even though these instances of generosity were rare, they did come along.
However, even though you can make a case to your parents about money for toiletries or clothes, you will never get a sex-toy allowance. Luckily, you don’t need one. There are plenty of things around your shithole of a home that will make great companions. Among them…
Electric toothbrush: I didn’t invent this idea. I'm going to blame Lena Dunham, since it was first brought to my attention in an episode of her obnoxious yet addictive TV show, Girls. Obviously, you don’t go brush-head first, and be sure to keep a layer of fabric between you and the handle. Only lend this toothbrush to sleep-over guests who have crossed you.
Washing machine: In your broke-ass life, the washing machine is probably very risky because I doubt you have an en-suite situation. However, if you and a Tinder date can lock the laundry room door behind you, I highly suggest banging on the washing machine right after you pop in a load. Butt vibrations are awesome.
Showerhead: The classic. If you didn’t figure this out in your youth, then go have a shower. Now.
Back massager: Did you know that the Hitachi Magic Wand – the godmother of all such devices – was originally invented to massage a woman’s body, not her clit? It wasn’t until some progressive sex educator in the 1970s started using it in her classes, to teach women about healthy masturbation, that it became a go-to for the southern region. And the Wand didn’t truly become "The Wand" until that one episode of Sex and the City gave it the legitimacy it needed. Hitachi then ditched the toy, leaving bona fide sex-toy companies to come up with their own versions. Even if you can’t get your hands on the original Wand, I’m sure someone you know over the age of 40 who owns one. Snag it!
Your phone: Wrap it in a pair of undies, hit vibrate, and off you go. You could probably check Twitter at the same time.
Happy masturbating, you penniless souls!
