Love is the most powerful force in the world. When I first met Vince, I knew he was the one—I’d never felt as alive as I did around him. He made every day brighter, filled every moment with joy. After just a few weeks, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

It’s kind of cliché, but Vince was my first love. He was my first everything—and I wasn’t his, but that was OK. It was romantic that I was his so wholly.

But it wasn’t the same for him. After a few months, he started to withdraw. He didn’t kiss me. I asked what was wrong.

“You’re so vanilla,” he said. “That’s fine for a while, but I need more. If we can’t spice things up, maybe I should start looking elsewhere to meet my needs.”

It was devastating to hear. I cried all night. But he was right. I hadn’t been thinking about his needs—I’d been a selfish lover. So I started researching.

To be honest, I was kind of intrigued by the things I found. I blushed a little when I first went on the websites, but a lot of it looked like fun: bondage, sensory play, crops, toys.

But it was also very pricey.

And look, I’m willing to invest in my relationship, even when that means forking over some cash. But I just don’t have hundreds of dollars lying around. I was about to burst into tears all over again when I found the forum. I guess I’m not the only one with limited funds—this place was full of posts on how to make your own gear out of household items. Seeing how affordable it could be, I perked right up and started taking notes.

And it worked! Vince and I tried all sorts of things: using his neckties in place of ropes, my scarves in place of blindfolds, a nice leather belt in place of . . . well. It was amazing—I’d never felt so close to Vince, and we’d never experienced so much pleasure together. So I decided to take it up a notch.

I swear I did everything right—I checked over and over to make sure it was safe. But as soon as I applied the clamps, Vince started to twitch and groan, his eyes rolling back into his head. The stench of burned flesh filled the air. By the time I disconnected the battery, he wasn’t breathing.

I guess DIYing erotic electrostimulation wasn’t a good idea.