Look, we need to talk about my recent adventure in the world of "personal massagers." Because honestly? It's too funny not to share, and maybe my embarrassing story will save you from making the same ridiculous mistake.
The Temptation (AKA: How I Played Myself)
Picture this: It's Friday night. I'm scrolling through Instagram while demolishing a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, when I see another ad for this sleek little vibrator called Groove by MyMuse. The comments are full of people basically writing poetry about this thing. One woman literally called it her "relationship saviour."
But then I saw the price tag.
Gulp.
My frugal brain immediately went into overdrive. "Surely," I thought, scooping another spoonful of ice cream, "this is just overpriced because of marketing. I bet I can find the exact same thing for cheaper."
Fast forward 20 minutes, and I'm on Blinkit feeling like a goddamn detective who just cracked the case. There it was—something that looked IDENTICAL to Groove, even called itself Groove, but cost half as much!
"HA!" I practically shouted at my phone. "You almost got me, capitalism!"
Smug with my shopping prowess, I hit "order now" faster than you can say "terrible life decision."
The Arrival (AKA: First Red Flags I Completely Ignored)
Two days later, my package arrived. The box looked like it had been through a war zone, but I blamed the delivery guy. Inside, instead of the elegant packaging I'd seen online, was a plastic shell that resembled something you'd get from a sketchy vending machine at a gas station.
"It's just the packaging," I reassured myself, tossing it aside. "The actual product is what matters!"
Oh, sweet summer child.
I pulled out my new toy and immediately noticed it felt... off. Like if you ordered a MacBook on OLX and received a Redmi Laptop instead. But did I return it? No! Because I am nothing if not committed to my terrible decisions.
That night, I lit some candles, put on my sexiest playlist (yes, it includes WAP, don't judge me), and prepared for what I hoped would be a magical evening with my new friend.
The Catastrophe (AKA: How I Learned The Hard Way)
Friends, let me tell you what happened next.
I turned on my knockoff Groove expecting earth-shattering vibrations. What I got instead was something that sounded—and felt—like a half-dead mosquito trapped in a tin can.
"Maybe it's just warming up?" I thought optimistically, adjusting the settings.
Reader, it was not warming up.
The vibrations were so weak I could barely feel them. It was like being tickled by someone who's afraid of touching you. And the pattern? Inconsistent at best. Imagine trying to reach climax while someone randomly turns the power on and off. NOT. SEXY.
But the true masterpiece of this disaster? Right when things were finally starting to get somewhere—the damn thing died. Complete battery failure. Mid-session.
I stared at the ceiling, surrounded by my now-pointless candles, with Cardi B asking "Whores in this house?" while I was very much alone with my disappointment.
The Walk of Shame (AKA: My Knockoff's Death Spiral)
Still, I'm stubborn. I charged that sucker back up and tried again a few days later. And again. And again. Each time was worse than the last. By week three, the battery wouldn't hold a charge for more than five minutes, and the vibrations had gotten so pathetic that my electric toothbrush was starting to look like a viable alternative.
The final straw came when I was on a video call with my best friend and confessed my predicament.
"You bought a what from WHERE?" she howled with laughter. "Girl, that's like buying sushi from a convenience store and wondering why you got food poisoning!"
She then proceeded to send me articles about how these knockoffs use cheap materials that can cause all kinds of nasty infections. Cue me panic-throwing my knockoff directly into the trash and vigorously washing my hands like I'd just gutted a fish.
The Awakening (AKA: Fine, Take My Money)
That night, slightly tipsy on wine and thoroughly done with my own penny-pinching nonsense, I bit the bullet and ordered the real Groove from MyMuse.
"This better be made of gold and come with a personal massage from Thor himself," I muttered as I entered my credit card information.
When it arrived—in packaging so elegant it made me feel like I should be wearing pearls to open it—I was still skeptical. The little voice in my head kept saying, "It's probably just paying for the fancy box!"
That little voice shut RIGHT up after the first use.
Oh. My. Goodness.
The difference was like comparing a kiddie pool to the Pacific Ocean. The real Groove was powerful, consistent, and hit spots I didn't even know existed. The material was silky smooth and felt amazing. And the battery? It kept going strong long after I had tapped out.
For the first time in weeks, I didn't end a self-care session feeling like I needed to apologize to myself.
The Epiphany (AKA: My Vagina Deserves Better)
Later that week, I had an honest moment with myself while soaking in the bath. Why had I been so willing to cheap out on something so intimate? I wouldn't put sketchy dollar-store makeup on my face. I wouldn't eat expired food to save a few bucks. So why did I think cutting corners on something that literally goes ON MY BODY was acceptable?
That's when it hit me: I'd internalized this weird shame about investing in my own pleasure. Like somehow it wasn't "worth" spending money on.
Well, screw that noise. My body deserves quality. My pleasure matters. And honestly? The peace of mind knowing this toy is made from body-safe materials—and won't suddenly die right when things are getting good—is worth every penny.
The Happy Ending (Literally)
It's been a month now with my real Groove, and I've gone from frustrated and irritated to feeling like I should write thank-you notes to the MyMuse team. This little device has improved my mood, helped me sleep better, and given me a whole new appreciation for taking care of myself properly.
So let my embarrassing saga be a lesson to you all: Don't. Get. Duped.
Some things in life are worth the investment, and your pleasure is absolutely one of them. The real Groove by MyMuse isn't just a vibrator—it's a commitment to yourself. It's saying, "Hey, my good time matters enough to get the good stuff."
And trust me—your body will thank you.
P.S. I used the code GROOVE10 when I bought mine and got 10% off. You're welcome!
P.P.S. MyMuse, if you're reading this—I have ideas for your next product line. Call me. 😉
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