One Sunday afternoon, I grabbed the bin of dirty sex toys from under my bed and brought it to the sink for cleaning. As I stared down into its contents, I was confronted with the realization: Every single toy in the bin was a realistic dildo. Apparently, I had craved cock – and only cock – for the past week or more.

I chuckled about this as I began soaping up the dildos, giving them sudsy handjobs under running water. I wondered what could possibly explain this sudden phallic fascination. On a hunch, I whipped out my phone to check my cycle tracking app – and lo and behold, I was (very likely) ovulating. Suddenly, it all made perfect sense.

Now, don’t get it twisted – I am a huge fan of dicks, and of their silicone facsimiles, on most days of the month, not just when I’m ovulating. But despite how much I like getting dicked down, I don’t fantasize about it all that often. Like the majority of people with vulvas, most of my pleasure – and all of my orgasms – come from clit stimulation, so when I’m fantasizing about having stuff done to me, usually it’s some kind of clit stuff.

But around ovulation time, I’ve noticed that my thoughts seem to wander to dicks more often. I used to notice this most acutely when I worked in sex toy retail and would catch myself staring longingly at the dildo display, filthy images flitting through my mind – but only at that particular time in my cycle. And now, I see it in my dirty-toy bin, which tells me truths about my current headspace like prophetic tea leaves in a cup.

Of course, from an evo-psych perspective, it makes complete sense that I would crave peen-in-vag sex at the time when that type of sex could most readily knock me up. I don’t even know whether I’m physically capable of getting pregnant (I’ve never knowingly been pregnant, never had a pregnancy scare, and have a history of ovarian cysts and irregular periods), but nonetheless, my body and brain seem to be pushing me toward that outcome when I ovulate.

This is a good illustration of something I strongly believe about sex toys: that they can help us make better sexual decisions for ourselves – decisions that are more in line with our values, preferences, and goals, both in and out of the bedroom. Back in the day, for instance, I used to sate my cyclical cock cravings by finding people to hook up with on dating apps – and while there’s nothing inherently wrong with that, the urgency of my desire would sometimes lead me to ignore red flags and rush into an evening of stilted conversation and bad sex.

These days, the only dicks that interest me are the ones attached to people I actually like, and the disembodied ones in my nightstand drawers. I would much rather keep myself satisfied with sex toys as needed, and only go out with people who genuinely excite me and treat me well, than roll the dice on impulsive hookups that are almost never as good as the fantasies in my head.

I’m sure some people would argue, “It’s not the same! Using a dildo could never feel as good as real human connection!” and to those people, I would say: Have you even felt dual-density silicone, babe?! It feels pretty fuckin’ good, my dude!!

But also: I do experience real human connection when masturbating. It’s a connection with myself, my body, and my fantasies. And anyone who doesn’t see the intrinsic value in that is just not someone I’d allow into my life – let alone into my holes.

This post contains a sponsored link. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.