I recently purchased a box of KY Yours and Mine couples lubricant at a local drug store. I do not purchase lubricants on a regular basis, so I don’t know the going rate. But, in my opinion, paying over $20 for something a woman’s body is supposed to make for free seems a bit excessive. But in all fairness, this product is not billed as your run-of-the-mill sex gel.
According to your website and television ads, K-Y “Yours and Mine” is the first couples lubricant that provides “two unique sensations:” an “invigorating sensation” for him and a “thrilling sensation” for her. Since the only feelings I normally experience during intercourse are shame and disappointment, the promise of these new, yet strangely vague, sensations piqued my interest. More importantly, I’m married, and I’ve been with the same woman for many years. Purchasing your product and stressing to her that we’d be “wasting money” if we didn’t use it was just the excuse I needed.
The fact that I need to make up an excuse to have sex is a topic for another letter, specifically my suicide note. But I digress.
Upon opening your product, I found two, 1.5 oz bottles: one blue and labeled “yours,” and another purple and labeled “mine.” This is important, because nowhere on either bottle did I find the words “Vagina Melting Battery Acid.” If I had, I might have thought twice about using it. But I didn’t, so I proceeded to apply the product.
Before my wife could even say “is it in yet,” she had pushed me away and was half-way to the bathroom. As opposed to the “thrilling sensation” promised by your marketing department, my wife was experiencing a burning sensation I thought was reserved for Gonorrhea patients. Upon entering the bathroom, I found her near tears, sitting on the toilet. That’s a scene no man should have to witness (unless he’s paying to see it).
After the pain had subsided, I examined the bottle again to see what might have caused the irritation. On the back, in very tiny print, I found a warning that the product “may cause skin irritation,” especially for people who are “sensitive to menthol.” First of all, when I think of skin irritation, I think of wearing an itchy sweater, not having someone hold a lighter to my crotch. Menthol??
In hindsight, I guess I should have investigated the chemical composition of a product that promises to “thrill” and “invigorate” my genitals before I made the purchase. But as is probably the case with most people who purchase your lube, my mind was preoccupied. As previously mentioned, I’m married, so sex is rare. To make matters worse, I had just returned from a bachelor party in Windsor, Canada. After three nights of taking in the “Ballet,” something had to give. Unfortunately, your product proved to be the ultimate cock block.
Needless to say, I never got to experience the “amazing reaction” that supposedly results from mixing the two lubricants. Quite the contrary. Thanks to the incident, it was over a week before I was able to get anywhere near my wife’s undercarriage without her screaming, and I have yet to attempt re-entry. Her efforts to placate me by other means have been less than inspired, and her total lack of enthusiasm has forced me to take care of the matter myself, which I imagine was her intent.
But given the horrifying result of simply applying one of the lubricants, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if the two had actually mixed. Would the burning sensation have been replaced by a freezing feeling, not unlike someone spraying liquid nitrogen onto our crotches and then shattering our junk into a million pieces with the flick of a hammer? Maybe combining the liquids would have caused a chemical reaction that melted our genitals together, resulting in a horrifying scene reminiscent of a conjoined-twin. Or perhaps it would have slowly and methodically destroyed our skin pigmentation, resulting in a “Michael Jackson after the Pepsi commercial” scenario. Whatever the case may be, I wasn’t about to find out, so I fed the remaining liquids to my neighbor’s poodle.
I’m not sure what upsets me more: the fact that I paid $20 to cause physical pain to my spouse, or the fact that the incident has made the already difficult task of mounting my wife nearly impossible. Actually, I’m quite sure that I’m more upset about the latter. But regardless, you people should be ashamed. It’s one thing to take advantage of someone’s sexual problems by selling them a product that doesn’t work (penis pumps, Extenz, condoms, etc.). It’s quite another to sell something that actually ruins someone’s chances of having sex.