The Problem with Jiftip, or Why Condoms Are Always Better Than Taping Your Dick Shut
I can’t think of a proper way to introduce this, so I’m just going to jump in headfirst and say it: Taping your dick shut is not an acceptable substitute for wearing a condom.
There. I said it, and I really wish I didn’t have to. Some things should be clearly recognizable as satire. You should be able to read Jonathan Swift’s “A Modest Proposal” (or its modern equivalent) and realize that it’s not actually recommending that the solution to Irish poverty was to eat babies. But this is the age of the internet, and for all the good that it’s brought us, it also means that occasionally we have to say things like this.
Jiftip the Diktip: A Lousy Substitute for Condoms
What brings this up is a new product that started circulating on social media last week called “Jiftip the Diktip.” The makers are hyping it as an alternative to wearing a condom. The internet picked up on Jiftip’s marketing materials last week, and the much-deserved mockery went viral.
Jiftip is a small triangular patch of adhesive film that’s supposed to be applied to the head of the wearer’s penis to prevent semen from getting out and into the vagina. (So far as I can tell, all of Jiftip’s material is assuming that sex is of the heterosexual, cisgender penis-in-vagina variety.) This, they claim, allows “a higher form of intimacy than condoms can provide.”
This is a very, very bad idea, whether you’re looking at Jiftip as a form of contraception or to prevent STI’s. It’s almost impossible to analyze the number of reasons that it’s a bad idea. For one thing, Jiftip’s own site acknowledges that their product hasn’t gone through any official scientific testing yet. Current customers to be part of the “beta team.”
“If it doesn’t step on anyone’s toes,” they write, “official testing and approval could happen if beta trials are successful.”
That’s a lot of ifs to apply to the health of your penis.
The first place I read about Jiftip was the blog of Dr. Jen Gunter, and she makes a lot of really good points. For the specific risks, however, she quotes Dr. Rajiv Singal, a urologist from Toronto:
Yikes. Seems like a bad idea. During ejaculation there is a contraction of the bulbocavernosal muscle and closure of the bladder neck. That is what propels semen forward. There would be no pressure transmitted to the bladder because it is closed. There would be pressure changes within the urethra, however whether that degree of barotrauma would lead to urethral injury and stricture formation I am not sure. Hard to quantify that risk but higher than not blocking the urethra I suspect!
Jiftip themselves don’t recommend ejaculating while the thing is still on. It’s apparently just supposed to be used for a form of advanced coitus interruptus: Pull out as you’re about to come, peel off the sticker, and then let it blow. Which of course, brings up the question: What’s the point?
I could sit here picking apart the problems with Jiftip, but it’s a little too easy, and it misses the point. As Jen Gunter points out, all their promotional material is built around pushing the idea that condoms are icky and that fucking with a condom on is somehow “lesser.” So this is a good chance to talk about how condoms can be something that enriches your sex life, instead of creating a burden.
Condoms: My Longest-Term Sexual Partner
When I hit adolescence and really started wanting to have sex, something very scary happened at the same time: AIDS was killing people left and right, and there was barely a treatment for it, never mind a cure. It was easier to find myths than fact, and most people in my high school were unsure exactly how it was spread. It hit gay men with special brutality, but no matter what your gender or orientation, it was easy to get one single message playing over and over in your head on a loop: if you had sex, you were going to die a horrible, miserable death at a young age.
As a result, I learned about condoms early, thanks in large part to the efforts of ACT/UP and the other queer rights groups who became very vocal at the time. Before I ever had sex, I became accustomed to the idea that they were going to be a constant part of my sex life. That’s probably one of the few ideas about sex that I still hold onto from my adolescence. Almost everything else has either been revealed to be bullshit or been updated because of of new science, but the one thing that’s still true is that condoms have allowed me to have a much richer sex life than I would have otherwise.
If you want a quick overview of the myths and realities of condoms (many of which the Jiftip site manipulates ruthlessly), this Buzzfeed video does a pretty good job in less than two minutes:
Learning What Condom is Right For You
I think that one of the things that most feeds the idea of condoms as being something to be endured is the belief that they’re all the same. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Cocks are highly individual in their size, shape, curvature, and sensitivity, and that means that a rubber that feels great on one person is going to be a boner-killer on another. People who put an almost obsessive level of care into getting the right flogger, cuffs, vibrator, and even lube are often willing to just grab whatever happens to be on the shelf at their local convenience store. Take your time and explore a wide variety of materials, sizes, and designs.
No, One Size Does Not Fit All
Just like any other part of your body, cocks come in different sizes, and wearing the wrong size condom is not only going to feel awkard and uncomfortable, it’s going to have some serious consequences.
Picking out a condom is the one time you have to be absolutely honest about your size. It may seem like a tweak to the ego to keep a pack of Trojan Magnums casually lying around your bedroom, but if you’re not that big, it’s not going to do you much good during sex. And similarly, condoms that are too small are going to cause more discomfort than pleasure. And once again, they’re more likely to break or fall off.
Traditionally, condoms have only been available in two sizes: “regular” and BIG!!!!! Fortunately, manufacturers are paying more attention to variations in dick size in recent years. For tips on how to measure yourself accurately and find condoms that fit, check out the Condom Sizes website.
Materials Matter
Traditionally, there have been two choices of material for condoms: latex and lambskin. Lambskin has always been favored for sensation, but while it’s solid for anti-pregnancy protection, it is porous enough to transmit most viruses, including HIV. For safer sex protection against STIs, latex is still the default in most condoms.
However, one of the big problems with latex is that there’s a sizeable number of people who are allergic to the stuff. If you’re not allergic yourself, it’s probably a good idea to keep some non-latex condoms and gloves on hand so that you have options if you bring home someone who is.
With condoms, the most popular latex substitute is polyurethane. In addition to avoiding latex allergies, polyurethane is thinner and transmits heat better. The drawback is that a lot of people report that polyurethane condoms don’t fit as snugly as latex, and are more likely to slip off. Internal condoms are made of polyurethane. However, as of this writing, internal condoms are about to move to a prescription-only model, so they’re not going to be available on the general market for much longer.
For a combination of the two, LifeStyles has Skyn Condoms, which are made from a synthetic latex called polyisoprene. Although polyisoprene is latex, it doesn’t trigger allergies because it lacks the natural proteins that irritate the skin. If polyurethane isn’t working for you as a latex alternative, you definitely may want to give these a try.
Lube Up!
The first rule of sex is always “Be clear and respectful about consent.” But if there’s a second rule, it should probably be “Use lube. Lots of it.” There’s almost no situation where that’s not true, and it applies particularly well to using condoms. Well-lubed condoms are much less likely to break, and the trick of putting a drop or two of lube inside the condom makes them much more pleasurable to use. But there’s one very important safety tip to remember when you’re choosing your lube: Latex condoms don’t play nice with petroleum-based lubricant. It weakens the latex, and you’re more likely to wind up with a broken rubber, along with all the problems that entails.
These are only a few of the basics about condoms. It’s possible to write volumes about all the nuanced differences, but in the end, it’s impossible to say definitively “what’s better.” That’s up to you: Everyone’s answer about which condom is the best is going to be slightly different depending on their body, the bodies of their partners, and what kind of sex they like to have. The one thing I can guarantee you, though, is that any of the options I’ve listed is going to be vastly superior to just taping your dick shut.
