August 2007
Photo by Alan Fairgate

Love That Never Says No
Dear Leg Show Readers,

Every once in awhile I receive a question about the use of sex dolls. Even with the anonymous safety of e-mail, however, writers mention "something they’ve read," instead of coming clean and telling me their own fascination or use of these silent sex partners.

I have my own fascination with "love" dolls. If you’re old enough you may remember the black-and-white ads in the back of some magazines in the late ’60s advertising blow-up facsimiles for use as a "marital aid." Even as a kid I figured these dolls very rarely figured into the love lives of the Beaver’s parents.

As an adult, my fascination continues: I can’t think of a more submissive image than that of a man who has been denied sex by his live and—need I say dominant—partner and "forced" by her to use a plastic substitute.

The ugly stepchild of sex devices, sex dolls have been available but rarely visible in our culture, except as sight gags, and seldom written about without judgment. Even back in the ’60s, when touted as a medical recommendation, they carried a stigma of shame and inadequacy. Its counterpart for women, the dildo, on the other hand, has been studied, depicted, given to bridesmaids (as a consolation prize?), and giggled over in every sex toy store worth its weight in lube. The dildo’s use in pornography is almost as ubiquitous as the real thing, while sex dolls rarely have a starring role ("Liquid Assets" from ’82 and "Doll Fuck: The Movie," 2003 are two).

Only available by mail order in the U.S. legally since 1968, sex dolls have been around far longer. In her 2005 doctoral thesis, Cynde Moya tells the story of Oskar Kokoschka, bad boy of the Viennese painting world, and his obsession with Alma Mahler, renowned femme fatale and breaker of hearts of brilliant artistic men in the early 20th century.

When the love affair with Oskar cooled for Alma around 1920, the still-besotted man did more than carry a torch; he ordered a life-sized replica of Alma, complete with exact measurements, from a Munich doll-maker. He dressed the doll in expensive lingerie and sexy clothing and made a number of sketches and paintings of it. "The doll, the fetish, the artificial woman, the ideal lover, the ideal Model," Moya writes, ultimately "was a disappointment to him" and after a couple of years he ceremonially burnt the doll at the climax of a drunken party. (So take THAT, Alma!)

Early commercially available dolls featured mouth, anus, and vagina, but no hair or other non-essentials… Today, the discerning gentleman so inclined buys (adopts? marries?) the Real Doll (realdoll.com), an eerily life-like Barbie Doll made to specification; even the weight—120-or-so pounds—and skin texture are so real that I had to take a second look the first time I saw (met?) one.

Guys who like to play the field can buy a Real Doll and interchange the head…a pouty blonde tonight, a "knowing" redhead tomorrow. Just like some women, these dolls are expensive, but at least they won’t break your heart. (By the way, Real Dolls have been "characters" in two movies: "Dead Doll" (2004) and "Love Object" (2003) although in the movies use of the sex doll leads to disastrous misadventure.)

Since you naughty boys who read Leg Show are too shy to spill the beans (and we know your plastic partner never will), I’ll cite some examples of sex doll use from other sexologists, noted in Dr. Moya’s dissertation.

There’s "Terry, a shy 17-year-old who hoped that the inflatable doll, bought from an older friend, would help him get over his fear of girls. He snuck it into his family house, inflated it, and penetrated it every night using baby oil as a lubricant. Terry soon "made it" with a girl, but the sex was not as good as he expected it to be. Terry complained that even though he knew his female companion wanted sex, the girl protested. Terry thought she expected him to tell her that he loved her, which he did not and would not do. Terry went back to his doll and was satisfied."

How about "Frank, who thought he was too old to chase around after women. Frank heard about inflatable sex dolls, and soon bought a couple of them. He takes the two of them to bed at the same time. Frank reported that he enjoys the doll sex more than sex with real women. He is not as tense or nervous as he is with a real woman, and his fantasies plus the sex dolls satisfies him sexually."

"Eddie," writes Dr. Moya, "gets jealous when his new bride, Geri, enjoys dancing with another man at his wedding reception. Eddie stomps home in a drunken jealous snit. Sexually aroused, he contemplates going out and finding a prostitute, but decides instead to stay home, drink some more, and have sex with the inflatable sex doll he received as a gag at his stag party. When he wakes, he deflates and hides the doll, then apologizes to his new wife. After many years of marriage, it is his private joke that he made it with ‘another woman’ on his wedding night."

"These stories, whether true or not, provide insight into the pleasures and anxieties readers and writers feel about gender identity and sex roles," Dr. Moya writes. "With artificial sex organs, such issues can be more safely examined, as they distance readers from real people and encounters."

The use of sex dolls is a springboard for writers to comment on the relations between the sexes, the future of sex, and the alienating influence of technology. Other writers express anxiety about men being replaced by vibrators and women by sex dolls. Until someone invents a sex toy that offers us pillow talk as well as a perfunctory orgasm, I’m not worried in the slightest.

Wait a minute; I take that back. There’s no shame in keeping a spare, I suppose. I met a male Real Doll that features an impressive array of interchangeable penises, including a flaccid model. It’s for women who want to pretend they’ve been in a relationship far too long.

The Bizarre Desire to Iron
Hi, Jane,

What is it about men who cross-dress? How would you judge them?

I am a cross-dresser. I dress in my wife’s lingerie then do the ironing. She thinks I am a sick man. What do you think?

Darling,

I think you’re a man who likes to dress up in women’s underwear…I also think you’re great to have around the house on ironing day.

Why does your wife think you’re a sick man, honey, just because you like to iron? I wouldn’t be caught dead doing it myself, but heavens, to each his own.

What is it about men who cross-dress? Vague question…I’ll riff, using your love of a domestic task as inspiration.

When a man cross-dresses, he "crosses over" into another realm of existence. Men who have a consistent desire to dress in women’s clothing can’t help wanting to do this. For reasons that are unknowable, it’s hard-wired into them. However, the ways men express their female persona differ. As do their erotic desires differ.

Some cross-dressers’ erotic kick comes from the idealization of glamorousness, often using Hollywood icons such as Joan Crawford, Judy Garland, Marilyn Monroe, and other hyper-glamorized as their models for femaleness. For these CDs, being a woman is about the glamour of long nails, big hair, and a curvy shape—the fun part of being a woman.

Other CDs want the erotic humiliation of what they believe being a woman is all about…housewifing. They get off on performing or being "forced" to perform housework tasks that many would consider demeaning: cleaning floors, washing clothes, scrubbing the toilet, ironing…"traditional" female tasks.

Yet other CDs have a strong need to sissify their experience of being female; they combine elements of being "pretty girls" with a hefty dash of childishness. Mary Jane shoes, short socks, ruffled rumba panties, and petticoats are the wardrobe of choice for sissies. The erotic charge for these CDs comes from being teased about being a pretty girl, being asked to show off her pretty panties, etc.

Some guys like to cross into realistically typical women’s clothing and simply "be" female, but with far less fanfare than the previous examples. They’re aroused by the swish of a nylon slip against their stockinged legs, perhaps, but are happy to sit and watch television or other low-key activities while dressed. These men often want to relate to their partner, if they have one, woman-to-woman for the time they’re dressed.

All of sexuality plays with power and the CD is no exception. The hyper-glamorized Dolly Parton type is in control, just as beautiful women in our society have power (and, hence, control of their sexual encounters) by virtue of their beauty.

The CDs who relax by wearing women’s clothing—as well as those who want to be erotically humiliated or sissified—are taking the submissive role; washing the floors or being a child is a surrender—and a relief—for these men.

So different from the experience of actually being a woman, in which washing floors is in no way surrendering to anything. Women who wash floors do so solely because the floor needs washing. But then, we don’t generally fetishize our clothing, either. As I said about your ironing, sweetie: to each his—or, depending on how you’re dressed, her—own.

Judgment? What judgment? It’s tough to judge something that "just is"…and doesn’t hurt a soul…and offers enormous relief and pleasure to the one who’s compelled to do it. All I care is that my guy not stretch out my angora sweaters.

Jane Vargas holds a Ph.D. in Human Sexuality and can be found on the Internet at www.xtratalk.com. Ask for Jane’s advice on any aspect of fetish sexuality by e-mailing her at jane@xtratalk.com or writing to her at Leg Show. “Advice to Boys Who Need It Bad” is a registered trademark of X-traordinary Talk! Please note that Jane’s advice is from the viewpoint of a caring, softly dominant woman; it is not intended to replace professional therapy. All questions are “real,” although may be edited for length.

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