Magnetic attraction, big bizarre, pink ecstasy

Hysteria

Although the use of sexual aids has ancient origins,¹ the history of modern sex toys began at the end of the 19^th century. This was when rubber dildos began to be manufactured, and the electric vibrator was invented.² The shape and function of vibrators have changed significantly over the last few decades, and they even created a popular, widespread, and ultimately false myth about these objects,³ which were first made closely linked with the porn industry,⁴ without taking women’s perspectives and needs into account at all.

For decades, the discourse on female sexuality was dominated by a misconception created by Sigmund Freud, which still persists today, idealising vaginal orgasm over clitoral pleasure, which was labelled “infantile”.⁵ This view was challenged by the research of Alfred Kinsey and his colleagues,⁶ but it was not until the late 1990s that the complete anatomical structure of the clitoris was described. Urologist Helen O’Connell’s MRI studies between 1998 and 2005 definitively proved the true extent of the clitoris,⁷ thus scientifically dispelling the artificial distinction between vaginal and clitoral orgasms.

A lack of anatomical knowledge and penetration-focused social norms have contributed significantly to maintaining the so-called ‘orgasm gap’ phenomenon.⁸ Frederick et al.⁹ pointed out significant differences between genders and sexual orientations in a large-scale American study: according to their findings, the rate of pleasure among heterosexual women is the lowest compared to all other groups, highlighting the social and biological underrepresentation of female sexual pleasure.¹⁰

In this context, the launch of the Pocket Rocket clitoral vibrator in the 1990s was a milestone: it was one of the first mass-produced products to manifest the knowledge that clitoral stimulation is essential for female pleasure.¹¹

During this period, companies focusing on niche products for a limited demand appeared, which engaged industrial designers in product development. The values, methods and practices of designers began to change the manufacturing of sex toys. In the early 2000s, more and more companies appeared that did not come from the adult industry (e.g. Lelo, N-Joy). These companies moved away from the world of traditional porn, and offered variety and quality, thereby changing the market.¹² After an episode of the world-famous series Sex and the City,¹³ interest in the Rabbit brand vibrators suddenly skyrocketed.¹⁴

Glover’s main argument was that social and cultural factors that emerged at the end of the 20^th century, rather than a lack of contemporary technological manufacturing capabilities, prevented the creation of products that contemporary female consumers desired. The most important conclusion of Glover’s doctoral research is that the history of sex toys can be paralleled with the history of the emancipation of Western women in the 20^th century. Glover maintains that mass-produced products are shaped by symbolic and behavioural sociocultural concepts. Sex toys and their predecessors reflect the sexual ethos of their time and the relationship between men and women, not only on an intimate, personal level, but also in terms of broader social strata.¹⁵

Glover concludes that from the Victorian era to the present day, who designs, manufactures and distributes sex toys and what values they represent reflect the sexual customs and laws of each era, and reveal their degree of sexual freedom. Glover refers several times to Rachel Maines’ 1999 work Technology of Orgasm, and acknowledges Maines’ assertion that sex toys represent sexual politics.¹⁶ At the same time, there is a myth in the history of sex toys that has become widely known thanks to Maines, and Glover also adopted this narrative in her doctoral research.

The main argument of Maines’ book was that the electric vibrator was invented by Dr. Joseph Mortimer Granville in the 1880s as a cure for female hysteria. According to Maines, at the end of the 19^th century, hysteria was treated by inducing orgasms, and Granville developed the electric vibrator to facilitate the process. Maines’ book became a reference point in the scientific world and inspired numerous works of art, including a play¹⁷ and a film.¹⁸ It took nineteen years for the veracity of Maines’ claim to be questioned,¹⁹ even though the author herself expressed in a 2009 interview that it was only a hypothesis on her part.²⁰

In her book Buzz: A Stimulating History of the Sex Toy, Hallie Lieberman refuted the hypothesis that the vibrator was developed to treat hysteria. The reality was that the device was used on various parts of the body, mainly for pain, spinal disorders and deafness, but it was not recommended specifically for hysteria.²¹ Lieberman later co-authored a study with Eric Schatzberg in which they concluded that they found no evidence of doctors ever treating their hysterical patients by stimulating the clitoris and inducing orgasm.²² Lieberman points out that the origin myth of vibrators is actually harmful because it creates the impression of women being previously unaware of their own sexuality. However, the truth is that they found a new function for an object originally designed for something else, taking control over their own bodies.²³

The turtle and the rabbit

Premiered in 1998, Sex and the City was the first popular television series in which women openly discussed their sex lives. In the ninth episode of the first season, Charlotte, the most prudish character, becomes addicted to a Rabbit Pearl²⁴ vibrator. She lives like a recluse, cancelling all her plans so she can masturbate at home. In the end, her friends intervene, confiscate the sex toy, and encourage her to have sex with men.

After the episode aired, sales spiked for Vibratex, the Japanese company that distributes Rabbit Pearl vibrators. Sex and the City brought sex toys into the discourse, but drew negative conclusions, suggesting that vibrators cause addiction and lead to loneliness. Sex toys also appear in later episodes of the series, always carrying some ridiculous or negative connotation.²⁵

Following Sex and the City, numerous films and series featured sex toys, including negative representations.²⁶ Lauren Rosewarne provides a lengthy analysis of the appearance of vibrators in films and series, finding that creators often aim to make sex toys a potential source of comedy and to associate their owners with laughably deviant behaviour.²⁷

Ironically, while Sex and the City started a process in mainstream media, with the characters openly talking about their sexuality and buying vibrators in sex shops, in many parts of the United States, the trade in sex toys was illegal. In some places, such laws are still in force.²⁸

Since the 2010s, sex toys have been appearing in the context of sexual well-being and health preservation. The Smile Makers brand was created with the specific aim of making sex toys available among everyday beauty products, in drugstores as well. Their credo is that sexuality, and especially female sexuality, is to be discussed without taboos, since it affects our mental and physical well-being.²⁹ They have achieved this primarily through design and packaging, using pastel colours, with products resembling fashionable home accessories with cute drawings on the boxes, rather than body parts. They also engage in sex education programs to this day. In Hungary, the brand first appeared in Drogerie Markt (dm) stores in 2014, paving the way for other companies manufacturing sexual products.

It is important to emphasise that the material culture of sex toys is not merely a question of design history or emancipation, but also an integral part of the capitalist market economy. As Gergely Csányi points out, desires and the means of satisfying them are inseparable from economic processes and market interests.³⁰ According to Csányi, we must consider who profits from our desires and what market interests are attached to them. This approach resonates with Foucault’s idea that sexuality is one of the main areas of the discourses of power.³¹

Message to men

In Eastern Europe during the socialist era, a form of superficial equality between men and women developed, with women being able to take on work just like men. However, the view that housework and childcare were exclusively female responsibilities persisted, placing a kind of “double burden” on women, for which feminism was blamed.³² Meanwhile, sexuality entered the discourse, and sex education efforts appeared.

In Hungary, obstetrician and gynaecologist Imre Hirschler published a book titled A nők védelmében (In Defence of Women) in 1958, which focused on female sexuality and whose primary aim was to achieve happier marriages. In the foreword, he writes that writing books on sexual issues is a difficult task, as sexual issues had been considered immoral and shameful social taboos in Western Christian culture for centuries. He emphasises that he utilised the findings of the latest available academic literature, such as the work of Kinsey and his colleagues, which he also cites³³ among his sources. In the book, he writes about the importance of the clitoris and its primary role in the orgasm. He identifies a lack of foreplay and male selfishness as the main causes of women’s sexual dissatisfaction, and finds it a common occurrence that women do not experience clitoral orgasms because they consider it to be abnormal and pathological.³⁴

This book went through a total of six editions. Csányi points out that during this period, the discourse on female sexuality, desires, and fantasies was almost exclusively interpreted by male doctors.³⁵ The later examples presented in my paper show that this power imbalance persisted for a long time in the public discourse on female sexuality: the expert speakers were predominantly men.³⁶

In 1984, during the late Kádár regime, a research project focusing on female sexuality was established under the leadership of Dr. Attila Bágyoni. The self-administered questionnaire, published in Családi Lap (Family Magazine), could be returned anonymously. In the end, 5,488 correctly completed questionnaires were analysed, containing 51 questions about sexuality. The questionnaire also addressed the issue of orgasm. The responses revealed that the younger age group at the time, those under 23, experienced orgasm during sexual intercourse at a much higher rate than the older participants.³⁷ Bágyoni attributed this to the fact that the adolescent years of this age group coincided with the introduction of sex education in Hungary,³⁸ the publication of educational books, and the availability of contraceptive pills. The possibilities to talk more openly about sexuality were on the rise, as well as the emphasis on the importance of pleasure, so the younger generation was more likely to express their needs. Bágyoni put it this way: “Women are less and less accepting of the biblical predestination of their fate as women.”³⁹

In their collection of essays titled Szex és szocializmus (Sex and Socialism), Eszter Zsófia Tóth and András Murai examine the relationship between power and sexuality in the Kádár regime through the social discourse of the era. The context of the topic is the socialist ethical framework and the official position of the Kádár era, according to which socialist people can be educated and their education – including in the area of sexuality – is a social task, and therefore a public matter. In view of this, the authors recall the public discourse on sexuality, physicality, and relationships.

Social discourse was not homogeneous under the Kádár regime either, as evidenced by scientific, educational, and even artistic forms of public discourse. On the surface, the socialist regime formed the image of modern society, and private individuals and intellectuals could discuss various issues (e.g. marriage, nudism) together. While at the same time the circle of those with a voice was highly regulated, and the boundaries of public discourse were severely restricted.⁴⁰

Wtf tools

Ifjúsági Magazin (Youth Magazine) played an important role in contemporary public discourse. As the official publication of the Hungarian Communist Youth League, it can be considered the mouthpiece of the ruling power, but it was also at the forefront of discussing physicality and sexuality. Compared to its rival publication of the era, Magyar Ifjúság (Hungarian Youth), it provided more wide-ranging and colourful information, pushing the boundaries of official norms and engaging in discourse on sexuality and physicality. It had a large subscriber base and gave space to letters from readers alongside contributions from experts and intellectuals.

The magazine employed a dual mechanism: on the one hand, the paternalistic approach and educational intent were clearly evident in the articles, with journalists commenting on current topics, while on the other hand, there was increasing freedom in the choice of topics and language use. Tóth and Murai use Foucault’s “socially regulated truth of sexuality” when discussing the motivational and evaluative mechanism of Ifjúsági Magazin. On the one hand, it was motivating because it championed taboo topics, and provided a platform for meaningful discourse; on the other hand, it restricted and defined the circle of speakers, typically expressing value judgments as well. The journalists who produced the magazine thus became the “custodians of discursive authority”.⁴¹ Ifjúsági Magazin remained popular after the change of regime, but in the 1990s, it faced stiff competition from a number of new publications.⁴²

The first sex shop in Hungary opened in November 1989. It was called Intim Center, and it is still in operation today. It was the first place where people could legally purchase sex toys, sexual aids, pornographic magazines, and videos.⁴³ The January 1990 issue of Ifjúsági Magazin featured a multi-page article about the shop, which was the first time the magazine had ever written about sexual aids. The article states that two out of ten visitors were women, who never arrived alone and did not touch the products. One of them is quoted in the article:

“But we couldn’t pass up the chance to see a buzz stick. We asked the salesperson to turn one on. Well, you know, it was like a jackhammer. I can’t decide if it’s sick to use something like that…”⁴⁴

At the same time, the store manager emphasised that they educate people about culture, run AIDS awareness campaigns, and offer free sex counselling to visitors. Despite all this, the conclusion of the article leaned to discourage young people from visiting the store.

The discourse of Ifjúsági Magazin between 2004 and 2013 ranged from technological enthusiasm to moral rejection. In 2012, influenced by the film Hysteria, the magazine presented the vibrator as a legitimate aid developed by doctors, which “can never replace a real man”.⁴⁵ In the magazine’s final years, however, the tone became more judgemental: sexual technologies concerning long distance relationships and online tools were labelled “idiotic perverted stuff” and “sick and impersonal” phenomena.⁴⁶ After 50 years, Ifjúsági Magazin ceased publication in 2015.

Male vanity

In May 1992, the German-licensed Bravo magazine was launched in Hungary, which became so popular that it quickly switched from a monthly to a biweekly publication. From the very first issue till the end,⁴⁷ the magazine featured the advice column Szerelem, Szex, Gyengédség (Love, Sex, Tenderness), which was influential among the generation that grew up in the 1990s. In the early days, young people could use the communal pseudonym Kék Madár (Blue Bird) for questions related to psychological well-being or sexuality, which were answered by psychologist Károly Szentmihályi until February 1997, when a colleague from a youth protection foundation took over this position

I would like to highlight two letters from readers in this column. The first was written by a fifteen-year-old boy in 1993, listing his questions in bullet points about why vibrators for women are more expensive than „artificial vaginas”,⁴⁸ but the second letter is the more striking one.

A seventeen-year-old girl asked for help because sex with her male partner did not give her as much pleasure as using a borrowed vibrator, on her own. In his reply, Szentmihályi essentially blamed the girl for what had happened, and also raised the issue of male vanity:

“It was a mistake not to tell him […] You hurt your friend’s ‘male’ pride by resorting to an object instead of mutual pleasure. […] There’s no need to worry about this if you have a boyfriend who loves you.”⁴⁹

Sex toys are mentioned several times outside of the Szerelem, Szex, Gyengédség column. It is pointed out several times that these devices are not recommended for those under the age of eighteen, as they may lose their virginity by using them. In the magazine, sexually themed dictionaries were often used for explaining terms such as “dildo”. In Bravo magazine’s sister publication, Bravo Girl!,⁵⁰ the explanation of the term offers that these devices are used not only for masturbation but also in lesbian sex.

The image of the lonely woman appears repeatedly in posts about sex toys. In 1998, the third question in the column titled 122 kérdés a szerelemről (122 Questions About Love) was: what is a vibrator good for?

“It provides pleasure. But a vibrator […] is only a substitute. To feel true physical satisfaction, we certainly need more than an artificial imitation of a part of a male body part.”⁵¹

In Bravo, the Film Comic section summarised films then showing in cinemas as comic strips. In 2000, they featured a drama based on a true story, Boys Don’t Cry, starring Hillary Swank, told the story of a trans boy whose life ended in violence.⁵² In one frame, the main character, Teena/Brandon, stands in front of the mirror, pressing down her breasts and putting a dildo in her trousers. As they wrote: “He simply feels better as a boy.”⁵³ The tone of the comic is empathetic, and the dildo is not presented as an object of ridicule.

Bravo magazine’s narrative about sex toys is not really different from that of Ifjúsági Magazin: they are tools intended for providing pleasure that cannot replace a real man, and their use is associated with loneliness and shame. Additionally, two new perspectives emerge: a different use of these devices among LGBTQ people, and a sense of threat to male self-awareness.

Down with inhibitions!

After the change of regime, foreign-licensed glossy magazines also appeared on the Hungarian market. They are typically printed on higher-quality glossy paper, published biweekly or monthly, centred on visual content, encourage consumption, and are primarily intended for entertainment. Their target audience is typically financially independent, active women living in metropolitan areas Their frequent topics include fashion, health, beauty, sexuality, intimate relationships, professional life, and culture. The personal tone of the articles dissolves the line between writer and reader.⁵⁴

Published first in 2004, Hungarian Glamour typically frames sex toys in a body-positive and educational context in its column, G-Sex. Referencing scientific findings, such as O’Connell’s clitoris research, the magazine’s articles promote self-acceptance and liberated female sexuality, breaking down anxieties surrounding body image.

Representation has changed over the years: in the mid-2000s, the emphasis was still on presenting the products available in sex shops and arguments defending the male ego, positioning sex toys as an alternative to infidelity. A 2008 article, for example, cited male readers’ fears and desire for possession:

“(…) ‘I don’t want my wife to use something that looks like another man’s penis.’”

“(…) ‘My penis is the sex toy! (…)’”⁵⁵

By the 2010s, however, the topic also appeared in the G-Health column. Here, vibrator use is presented as a legitimate means of exploring the body, with the only recommendation to pause use being to preserve “more intimate stimuli”.⁵⁶

Contemporary discourse is dominated by experts such as sexologist PoliLili (Katalin Schnierer), who sharply distinguishes between the concept of “sex toys” used for recreational purposes and the problematic term “aids”.⁵⁷ The narrative emphasises that the use of devices is not in competition with the partner, but rather a means of self-knowledge and sexual confidence. An interesting shift is that PoliLili’s articles also mention sex toys designed for men, framing them as complementary to the partner relationship rather than as an alternative, while earlier representations primarily aimed to protect male vanity alongside female device use. In this case, the author communicates to women the legitimacy of male sexual autonomy and device use.⁵⁸ This narrative is echoed in the statements of the sex psychologist, Dr. Krisztina Hevesi. When asked about technological developments (VR, sex robots), the expert drew attention to the risks of mechanical intimacy and loneliness, in addition to destigmatising users.⁵⁹

Overall, Glamour’s representation differs from that of youth magazines, with the narrative shifting towards sexual well-being, healthy habits, and recreation. Those who use sex toys are self-aware individuals who take control of their sexuality. Simultaneously, they draw attention to the dangers of excessive use, and always emphasise that these devices do not replace a partner, but serve a different function. The experts who voice their opinions are typically female sexologists and sexual psychologists who combine subjective experiences, objective scientific data, and case studies from their practice.

The box

Following the examples presented in magazines, I aim to examine the context in which sex toys appear in Hungarian films. I analyse Hungarian motion pictures (Idő van 1985, Tibor vagyok, de hódítani akarok 2006, Pánik 2008, Tékasztorik 2017, Barátok Közt 2017-2018, Valami Amerika 2023) in which sex toys play a role and the characters interact with them, but which are not pornographic or erotic films.

In his 1985 film Idő van (Time), Péter Gothár translated Péter Esterházy’s postmodern prose into the language of film.⁶⁰ This etude-like film, with absurd and grotesque elements, depicts two days in the life of a thirty-five-year-old man. The protagonist, Mihály, tries to smuggle a hidden box out of his workplace, which later turns out to contain a device shaped like male genitalia. It is clear that the vibrator is carved from wood, with a rotating, illuminated top like a lighthouse, and was most likely made as a prop for the film. In Esterházy’s literary screenplay, which is essentially the film’s shot list, the vibrator is referred to as a ‘prosthesis’, and it is not named in the film either, despite its obvious function and role. The use of the object is ultimately thwarted by technical reasons (the lack of batteries) and the couple’s frustration, giving way to the absurd motifs that dominate the rest of the film. In this case, the vibrator without batteries may symbolise the couple’s relationship and its emptiness. The fact that the object itself remains unnamed, secret, and hidden, reinforces the idea that it is a shameful, potentially illegal device that even married couples only talk about as a secret, in private. This can be attributed to the period before the change of regime, when such devices could only be obtained illegally from abroad.

Tibor’s trembler

Tibor vagyok, de hódítani akarok (Young, Dumb, and Full of Love) from 2006 utilises the motifs of the popular teen comedies of the era, transposing them into a Hungarian setting. As per the requirements of the genre, the main storyline revolves around the protagonist Tibor’s attempts to lose his virginity and the comical situations that arise as a result. In one scene, Tibor and his friend find a gold-coloured vibrator resembling male genitalia and Kegel balls in the female protagonist’s room. The characters play with the sex toy in a childish manner, as if they were sword fighting, and then a character with poor eyesight mistakes the vibrator for a vibrating cell phone. The owner of the vibrator is a woman who is thought to have worked in the adult industry before marrying a wealthy entrepreneur. At the end of the film, the character clearly states that money is more important to her than anything else.

In this narrative, the sex toy is solely a tool for lowbrow humour and parody, devoid of any deeper social reflection. The script closely links the subject to the porn industry and materialism, reinforcing the stereotype that such tools are accessories to a deviant lifestyle.

Magnetic attraction

In Attila Till’s work Pánik (Panic) (2008), buying sex toys is presented as an impulsive, adventurous gesture against loneliness and the fear of death. The aging Elli and her friend enter a bizarre sex shop wearing sunglasses to hide their identities, where the abstract design of the products and the parodic fantasy names (e.g. „Purple Haze”, „Treasure of Africa”) reinforce the comical nature of the situation. One of the most defining motifs of the film is the purchase of a used dildo, which immediately triggers moral disgust and hygienic concerns in the protagonist. This moment symbolises an immediate turning away from desire and a deeply rooted sense of shame: Elli finally gets rid of the object, as if rejecting the discovery of her own intimacy.

The sex toys that appear in the film are not literal representations of male genitalia, but rather more abstractly designed devices. In Pánik, the vibrator is already an everyday object that can be purchased in a sex shop, but buying it is associated with shame and must be done in secret.

Battery beau

Viktória Bihari’s film, the crowdfunded Tékasztorik (Story Vault) (2017), deals with the dilemmas of being single in mature adulthood in a cynical, outspoken style. In one scene, the protagonist, Viku, who is in her late thirties, asks her father for a vibrator as a birthday present, which she describes as a natural tool to her friends and a way to compensate for her prolonged loneliness in her own life. Although the film presents a wide range of sex toys in a montage (e.g. Rabbit vibrator, Magic Wand⁶¹), the depiction borders on vulgar humour and an attempt at normalisation.

In this case, too, the image of a disillusioned, lonely woman is associated with sex toys, reinforcing the stereotype that the use of such devices is not a consequence of sexual autonomy, but rather of a lack of a partner.

Big bizarre

American-style daytime dramas typically address important social issues such as racism or homosexuality, usually as problems faced by secondary characters. In series of this type, the creators tend to deal with divisive issues rather superficially, generally seeking to remain neutral so as not to lose their core audience.⁶² Based on the Australian model, Barátok közt (Among Friends) also addressed important issues through its main characters: one of the main characters was of Roma origin, while another was homosexual, although neither storyline lasted very long.

In December 2017,⁶³ a story arc commenced that ran up until May 2018.⁶⁴ According to the story, an elderly couple, Vili and Bözsi, start up a sex toy webshop to supplement their pensions. Although their friends and family initially suspect a mistake, the couple consciously decide to engage in adult-oriented commerce, which quickly brings them significant financial success, but they keep their additional source of income a secret. This makes Laci, the local shopkeeper suspicious, and he wants to expose the elderly couple.

The storyline of Laci and his wife, Gizi, is closely linked. They attend couples therapy, where the man rejects his wife’s sexual demands. The conflict comes to a head when Laci accidentally gives Gizi a vibrator he ordered to expose his neighbours, which she interprets as a gesture of intimacy. After initial disappointment, the object ultimately sparks a conversation about female sexuality, and their marriage improves. Meanwhile, not only does Laci try to expose Vili, who is nominated for honorary citizenship, but a competitor also begins to blackmail him by threatening to expose his webshop. The couple finally comes clean about their additional source of income. According to their friends, there is nothing to be ashamed of: it is legal and brings money into the household.

Sex toys are shown twice during the six-month storyline: once when young people open the packages, and once when we see a brief glimpse of the webshop interface where we can purchase a vibrator called „Pink Ecstasy” in a plain or decorative box, a satin blindfold, and a feather tickler.

From Vili and Bözsi’s perspective, sex toys are a source of shame; they try to hide them and even become vulnerable to blackmail because of them. In Gizi and Laci’s storyline, the woman sees them as a means of satisfying her needs, while the man feels threatened by them.

“You need a piece of plastic to replace me, but of course I shouldn’t be offended! […] I’m boring now, you can manage on your own,” says Laci,⁶⁵ sounding offended.

In the story of Gizi and Laci, sex toys symbolise neglected needs and threats. In contrast, the retired couple’s successful business receives a kind of absolution from the community, even though their grandchild is clearly ashamed of their grandparents’ unusual business activities.

Jean-Pierre

The opening episode of the series Valami Amerika (2023) presents sex toys and a more open attitude towards sexuality in a bizarre light. In a short scene, one of the main characters, Zita, is cleaning her mother’s flat while talking to her on the phone. In the script, the mother is a sex therapist and is currently attending a tantric sex camp. The flat contains a wooden penis that serves as a decorative object and a drawer full of seemingly poor-quality dildos, vibrators, and strap-on penises that mimic male genitalia, which the girl finds repulsive. The drawer full of sex toys symbolises not professional knowledge but extremism. The confusion of the story is well illustrated by the fact that, in the name of freedom, the mother even dismisses workplace harassment as insignificant. After calling her daughter prudish, she advises her to consider the harassment as a perk, completely misinterpreting the concept of sexual autonomy and the importance of consent.

In this context, sex play is not a means of self-discovery, but rather an accessory to an overly stylised, almost caricatured lifestyle, which evokes a sense of aversion in the viewer, and serves to heighten the comical nature of the situation.

Conclusion

The analysed examples show that sex toys are primarily used as a means of humour in mainstream Hungarian cinema. They are often portrayed as a source of shame and can also be interpreted as symbols of loneliness and deviance. Youth magazines take a similar view of these devices, often suggesting that they cannot replace a real man, and may even be threatening in a relationship. The narrative of youth magazines and the examples in the films show a close parallel, whereas Glamour magazine, aimed at a female target group, takes an emancipatory approach. The examples analysed show that sex toys are placed in a new context, presenting them as tools for sexual well-being and conscious self-care.

In recent decades, the use of sex toys and sexual devices has increased among women, with women also being the primary users.⁶⁶ If we find Glover’s claim that sex toys reflect social embeddedness to be true, then their representation in the mainstream is, on the one hand, a reflection of social attitudes and, on the other hand, can also shape them. If stigmatising stereotypes continue to be perpetuated in content intended for the general public, this can increase frustration and, in the long term, have a negative impact on sexual well-being and self-acceptance.