Zack's Ramblings: Silicone Lube Makes Me Want To Vomit
Here on TNG I complain. A lot. I complain with the frequency and intensity of a colicky infant watching an episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia during a Columbia Heights 4th of July. So I try to scale back. Be positive. Write about things I like. Music, TV, Frank Kameny. But I can’t always do it. Some things in this world are abominations, brown smears down the fresh white sheets of gay life, and I can’t keep my mouth shut about them.
Silicone-based lube is one of those things.
Remember last year’s BP Deepwater Horizon oil disaster and how terrible our country’s gorgeous coast lines looked when covered in a viscous black slime? Well, that’s how my balls feel for about three weeks after one brush with a bottle of Gun Oil. I like the emotional aspect of sex, the sense that two (or six) people come out of an encounter slightly changed. However, the feeling of sex should linger in your brain or heart, not on the top three inches of your pubes. When even the waistband of your underwear starts to slide around untethered it is clear that you’ve let a substance touch your skin that shouldn’t be there.
Lube is one of those things that is deeply personal, like how they eat corn on the cob. So it makes sense that a substance that might make me violently ill seconds after ejaculation could be another man’s treasure. Why they prefer a lube that allows them to be fucked not just once, but theoretically by several other men in the next four days without reapplication, is beyond me. But I’m trying to keep an open mind.
So I put up a query on Facebook and got some decent answers as to why people might favor the stuff:
” I actually prefer it. It doesn’t seem to gum up like water-based stuff does.”
“Better lubrication, for sure. For fun with a partner or alone. I prefer the feel (of it) to the sticky, time-limited feel of water based lube.”
However, the holder of the second opinion also offered this:
It never goes away. Silicone lube now covers my bed, desk chairs, door knobs, light-switches, and chandeliers. Can come in handy if a kid gets his head stuck in the banister on the stairs, a la every sitcom we’ve ever seen.
And that is the heart of the double-edged lube bottle. Sure, regular lube might require a couple reapplications throughout the course of the sex, but at least you won’t break your neck on it while getting up to pee at 5 am. One friend of mine has clear memories of an old apartment that had become almost uninhabitable due to one errant jerk-off session with a silicon lube sample.
Apparently, it went something like this: Lube is poured on penis, lube spills on bathtub floor. Lube sticks to bottom of feet, is tracked to the sink where it will not wash off hands. Lube is then tracked pedally on the remainder of the bathroom floor, then throughout the apartment, leaving slimy penumbras on all intervening door knobs. Resident of apartment moves out. Apartment is then rented off at a “haunted house rate,” i.e. has its market value driven down by a slick, tactile form of ghost.
I know that silicone lube (or Slube) serves a purpose. That moment when “ooh, ooh” turns into “OW! OW!” is about as mood-killing as a breach birth. Taking the extra second to re-up on the slippery stuff can mean the difference between the best sex you’ve ever had and “just jerk off on me so I can go to bed.” However, so can adjusting one knee for balance and suddenly finding yourself 8 inches in the air, then crashing down onto a hardwood floor. Slube turns bedrooms into slip-n-slides, solid sheets into tie-dye, and inner thighs into bacterial breeding grounds on par with a Steamworks‘ hot tub.
But hey, why take my word on it? Here are some other musings I collected from Facebook to prove I’m not the only one who thinks silicone should be relegated to Nancy Pelosi’s lips where it belongs:
Silicone degrades silicone so it’s not really any good for FTM guys. Just saying
I don’t allow it in my house because it will ruin leather.
It stains sheets. I hate it – unless I’m at someone else’s house/car/alley.
Can you think of any other issue that can single-handedly bring together disparate strands of the trans, leather and sheet-buying community? I sure can’t. I’m actually going to go ahead and make up a statistic here that I hope will scare the living shit out of you:
68% of gay household injuries come as a direct result of silicone-based lube. So there you have it. It’s great for sliding into a buddy, but less fun when you’re sliding headfirst into a bookcase because of that one time you tried to have sex in your living room. Thanks, Slube. I’ll just be sticking to Liquid Silk at my own house.
At another’s place, though? I guess when you’re in slippery Rome, you do as slippery Romans do. Just have a can of turpentine ready when you get home or forever feel the consequences.
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