The Blow-Up Doll

I am aware of the recent advances in sex-doll technology, for some reason. I'm certainly not a customer, but I do recall reading an article some years ago about some sort of 'lifelike doll' that cost several thousand dollars--Howard Stern bought one, as research for his show I presume. Other prominent men were also listed as clients.

Come to think of it--it makes no sense as to why 'prominent men' would be publicly outed for buying several-thousand-dollar life-like sex dolls, since they can usually afford to hide that sort of information, and would usually want to, but something about the attitude of the article made it seem like buying one of these was something to brag about, a grand and macho joke, and so I stand by the fact that my memory is correct.

Perhaps it was in Playboy or something, where every man seems to brag about things he would ordinarily not want the world to know. They must have very persuasive interviewers (36-24-36?), or maybe they practiced the same methods as reality shows these days--run the cameras/tape recorder, get your subject(s) drunk, gain their confidence, convince them to say things they regret the next morning, then edit out all the boring stuff later.

"No, don't worry--women don't read this magazine. Neither do most men, for that matter, and trust me--the men who DO actually read the articles will find your candid attitude about the whole affair very macho and admirable. And they won't tell anyone about it. Or, at least, nobody they tell will believe them. So, please, once more, speak into the microphone..."

Regardless, that article from my vague and distant past is not the topic of discussion. What I want you to think about right now is this--the guy who invented the very first, super low-tech, cheap, smelly, plastic, ridiculously-un-life-like, blow-up 'female' doll. Not the new-fangled doll that is warm and soft and pliable and 'lifelike,' complete with 'usable' orifi, maybe even with real hair, etc. The first one. The one with neither a bell nor a whistle.

Sick, right? Not that the new ones are not sick, but you must admit the sickness quotient is exponentially increased when you think about the early-adopting pioneers. Some lonely (I would assume) man sitting in his basement, in a soiled wife-beater and jeans, drunk on rye, decided that what he needed, to tide himself over until Sophia Loren finished her messy divorce and his conscience would allow him to make an official pass at her outside of a bar on Hollywood Boulevard at closing time, was an inflated piece of plastic roughly the size and shape of a woman. That he could fuck.

The truth of the matter is, though, that it was most likely invented by a man who the average person thought respectable, intelligent, and successful--at least, that's usually the way it is with serial killers, prostitute-solicitors, gamblers, murderers, embezzlers, corrupt officials, and pedophiles. The inventor was probably a senator, or a leader of industry, or a titan of Wall Street tired of call girls giving him lip when he smacked them, or, at the very least, a doctor, dentist, lawyer, what-have-you. I mean, think about it--whoever it was, they had to go through quite a process to get from A-B:

1. Think of the idea
2. Plan out the idea in his head
3. Draw up the plans
4. Come to terms with the fact that he seriously wants to go through with this
5. Contact potential manufacturers
6. Send them drawings
7. Receive quotes
8. Decide that the outrageous cost of beginning production is worth it
9. Empty bank account / take out a loan ("...and what was that for again, sir?")
10. Eagerly await delivery of first sample product, hope wife doesn't get the mail that day
11. Approve sample product ("Yes. THIS is what men want to fuck when luck fails them at the singles bar! I am not alone! I'll be rich!")
12. Authorize production
13. Contact dirty men in charge of sex-toy stores
14. Convince dirty men to stock his product
15. Drive down to the docks to accept delivery from Chinese manufacturer
16. Load goods into truck
17. Drive away, knowing what is inside back of truck
18. Realize payload of sex dolls only exists because you dreamed it up, you ordered it, you paid for it
19. Deliver product to stores off of rural highways and behind Capitol Buildings
20. Rub hands together and wait for money to pour into secret bank account, to be spent on illicit holidays for him and his plastic mistress
21. Kill himself when his doll leaves him for another man

Now, that sort of lengthy, somewhat-mentally-taxing process typically deters your general lay-about; but a man with a fire under his pants, like a senator shall we say, why he relishes this sort of task, especially since it was be conducted in secret, in his study or rec room, away from the prying eyes of his annoying, life-like wife. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed playing God/Frankenstein and getting away with it. He enjoyed bringing happiness to lonely men all over the world, and making money in the bargain.

Sadly, the creepy questions keep coming:
Who saw the first advertisement, who saw the first sample product in the store, who saw one at their friend/colleague's house--and thought they needed one? Who saw the initial model and said to themselves, "Ha! I could make a better plastic woman than that piece of shit!" and then did? How have we ended up living in a world where a lifeless plastic woman costs more than a top-shelf, 18-year-old, disease-free, Harvard-educated prostitute?

You're gonna have to finish this one. I don't have the heart. The answers are too frightening. And, I mean, shit, what do I know--maybe it was invented by a woman. A cunning woman who knew there were sketchy-ass men out there who would pay for it. And she laughed her way to the bank.

And now here we are.


Hold the phone--turn your brain back on--I just went browsing for a funny blow-up doll photo to add to this entry and stumbled upon this.

It was the second link that came up on Google; the first one I clicked on; the last one I will ever click on. All I have to say is, "OFF THE FARM?!?!"