I am beginning to think something is wrong with me. Not because of my high sex drive or because I think about shagging all the time, or even because I am obsessed with all things erotic. No. All this I can cope with and have adjusted my life accordingly, but what I am worried about is far, far worse:

I think I am the only woman in the world who the Rampant Rabbit vibrator does absolutely nothing for.

I was – like many others I imagine – impressed by the claims made about this well-known popular sex toy a few years back. ‘As seen on Sex and the City!’, the packaging shouted at me, and even given my cynicism about the completely patronising marketing of the product, and the fact that it was pink and glittery and screamed ‘girly rubbish’ all over it, there was a little part of me that was curious about it. After all, it worked for the Sex and the City prudish character Charlotte, and everyone else seemed to be raving about it, so I hoped that I too would spend all weekend locked in my bedroom gasping with delight.

I didn’t. There may have been gasps coming from my mouth, but that was the sound of incredulity, rather than of pleasure.

It’s not like I didn’t try to make it work for me. With horny gusto I attempted to rub one out using the rabbit – every base was covered in order for me to have a productive frig:

1. I surrounded myself with a variety of porn (the male performers with body hair; the females with natural breasts)
2. I ensured my mind was clear for fantasy (my lips around his erection; him fucking me from behind; her tongue between my legs)
3. I had a bottle of lube to hand
   

Well, a girl likes to come, prepared.

Throbbing like mad and with a dampness threatening to breach the Thames barrier, I was looking forward to a little pussy pounding, so I grabbed hold of the rabbit and set it to work.

Funnily enough, that is exactly what it did: hammer away like some kind of internal road-works; its noisy motor sounding like a drill inside of me. Not the sort of thing to get one in the mood. But, you know, I am persistent: when I need to have an orgasm, nothing, and nobody, is going to stand in my way. So with focus, I concentrated on the sensations the toy was providing, rather than the loud rattle it was making.

Unfortunately, these disappointed as well: having a rubber shaft speedily swivelling clock-wise (or anti-clockwise) inside my vagina not only distracted me from feeling any pleasure, but actively turned me off too. Not that I had expected the rabbit to provide the same motions as a penis, but, one would hope, that its sensations would be similar. At least, that’s what I would have liked; the reason I enjoy sex so much is because I adore the feeling of a cock inside me.

But real cocks do not swivel. Not even slightly. True, if their owner has good bedroom skills and is aware of the advantages of circling their sacrum (rather than moving in and out with their hips), then their penis will move up and down and round and round, in a rather delightful way that will hit my g-spot just so. And it’s also true that the guys who know about, and flex, their PC muscle can make their cocks bounce back and forth (and control their orgasms) - which is fun, and feels fantastic during penetration. But swivel? Cocks doing a 360 degree turn? Penis’ that can move in a circular reverse direction? No. And thank god: I don’t want a super-cock, a regular one will do just fine, thank you.

That wasn’t even the worst of it though: there was also a clitoral stimulator (otherwise known as the rabbit’s ‘ears’) to contend with. These sit either side of the clit. I shan’t go into detail here except to say two things:

1. ‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!’
2. If a bloke was giving me the same stimulation I’d be pushing him off me and telling him to slow down and not rush in to rub my clit with such gusto.
   

With the ‘ears’ pulsing away with such intensity, my entire vulva went numb, and immediately I knew that there was no way I was going to be able to have an orgasm if I continued. For a woman like me – multi-orgasmic at the worst of times – this says a lot: a toy should actively turn you on, not make you feel like you don’t have a chance in hell of climaxing. If I wanted to feel like that, I’d call up an ex-boyfriend, but really, I’m not that masochistic.

Anyway, my rabbit now sits unused at the bottom of my underwear drawer. I have attempted to derive pleasure from it a couple more times, but it’s always had the same effect on me. So I’ve just resigned myself to the knowledge that I am - in terms of the supposed mass female approval of this toy - different to other women: the rabbit just doesn’t work for me.

Sod ears on my clit and a swivelling shaft in my vagina, I just want something pressing against my g-spot, thanks, so I’d swap the rabbit for my ever-trusted Rock Chick any day. Plus, given the choice of a simply designed toy, versus one with lots of external attachments and buttons, I know which one I would choose and it wouldn’t bloody resemble a stupid, cute, pink animal, that’s for sure: I don’t need my intelligence insulted just because I am wanking, thank you.

Still, if creating and marketing this toy in such a way means more women are making themselves have climaxes, who am I to complain?