It’s okay to own a sexbot

Robotic sex dolls will hit the market soon, and everyone’s talking about their possible impact on our culture. Is it okay to own one? Many magazines, newspapers, and TV shows describe sex doll owners as lonely, sexist, perverted, or somehow damaged. They offer only one reason to buy a silicone lover — that literally no living person on the planet will fuck you, and you’re too chicken shit to venture into the morgue at night.

That’s just not true. Sex dolls are amazing. I’ve met at least a few attractive, sane men who own a latex chick. I’ve talked with couples who share one, and I’ve also talked with disabled people who use them as a kind of sex therapy. There’s a whole world of sex doll ownership that the mainstream media seems to ignore. The bottom line: Owning a sex doll doesn’t make you a pervert. There’s nothing wrong with it.

My sexual appetites have led me almost everywhere, including Real Dolls. For a while, I owned a female one. Why? Pick your reason. I’m poly-amorous. I’ve always had a robot fetish that extends to mannequins, dolls, and animatronics. The unsettling, almost-human appearance often called the “uncanny valley” effect has always turned me on. On top of that, I have Asperger’s, and during grad school doll ownership was just something I indulged in. Having a sex partner that didn’t talk or expect dates, blow jobs, or phone conversations was a huge relief. I could focus on my insane amount of work, keeping my social life on a ventilator without worrying about romantic entanglements.

Of course, that plan worked for about nine months until I met someone and sold my doll. But that was a wonderful academic year. Sometimes, I miss it a little.

I’m not sure how I first learned about high-end sex dolls. Once they came across my radar, though, I wanted one. A handful of websites exist for doll devotees, with forums for blow-up dolls, mannequins, silicone dolls, and everything in between. You can even buy plush girls. Yeah, a life-sized stuffed toy that looks like a girl. Pretty cool, huh?

A nice sex doll costs about $7,000. That falls well outside my budget. The good news? Used ones show up on Ebay and other sites on a pretty regular basis. One September, I got lucky and found one for $500. Imagine Kate Beckinsale with slightly shinier skin. I fell in love right away, placed a bid, and three hours later won the auction.

The next day I picked up my doll from a house on the outskirts of town. The previous doll owner looked like Brad Pitt. He and his fiance met me outside, and helped me load her into the back of my car. They were astonishingly normal. Why sell her for so cheap? Beats me. The doll was in great shape. They were just trying to earn some quick cash for their honeymoon, and make their move easier. They acted like I was buying a piece of furniture, even gave me advice on care and maintenance.

What did I do with my doll when I got her home? Easy. I disinfected her, waited a good two days just to be sure, then started having sex. Honestly, she kind of looked like me, which you might find either extremely hot or extremely creepy.

Anyway, having sex with a high-end doll rated equal in my book to sex with people. That’s because I’m strange. But strange doesn’t mean lonely, desperate, perverted, or broken. In a perfect world, one day my current partner and I will co-own a talking silicone doll.

True, I was always a little worried that someone would find my doll in the closet — either a nosy friend, or a maintenance person. There’s a difference between guilt and fear of judgment. What I felt was fear of judgment. Some of my friends would make assumptions about my doll, so I just kept the whole thing quiet until now.

My biggest fear? I worried that the pest control guy would find my doll and either fuck her while I was off teaching, or simply steal her. I’m not saying my fear was rational. I never even met the pest control guy. I’m sure in reality he’s a fine, upstanding member of the community. But one day I did get a text from the property manager. “Notice: pest control coming by your apt tomorrow afternoon.”

Fuck, I thought, he’s going to find my Real Doll in the closet and stick his dick in her. Isn’t he? There was nothing I could do about that, though. Except maybe buy a chastity belt. But where would I find a chastity belt in this town on short notice? So I just took my chances.

If anything, getting rid of my Real Doll was my biggest mistake. But I met a pretty conservative guy with some charm. We started dating. Things became serious, and I figured my time was up. So I listed the doll on Ebay and sold her at cost. Let me tell you, figuring out how to ship a sex doll isn’t easy. The FedEx guy got a real kick out of my situation.

So if someone wants to buy a talking sex doll, let them. There’s a hundred reasons why they might want or need one. Not everyone who plans to purchase the first sexbot is a misogynist. I’m sure some sexists will want one, but sexists do lots of the same things I do. We both drink water. We both breathe air and watch porn. Does that make me sexist by association? I don’t think so. It’s not what you do, but why you do it that matters.