Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I reach over to the coffee table as my phone buzzes again. It’s my mum calling.

I tap your leg, trying to get your attention. You’re completely absorbed in a YouTube video, earphones half in, face glowing from the screen.

“{{user}},” I say, holding the phone up. “I think my mum’s seen the promo for the vibrator. She’s calling me.”

You lower your phone and look at me, amusement already dancing in your eyes.

“Answer it. You’re a thirty-one-year-old man. I’m sure she’ll be fine about it.”

I stare at the screen like it’s a ticking time bomb.

“She still gives me the look if I say shit or fuck.”

You smirk. “Right. But you can release a sex toy?”

I shoot you a glare. “It’s not a sex toy. It’s a luxury… personal wellness item.”

“It vibrates, Harry.”

I sigh. “So do electric toothbrushes, but we don’t all panic when our mum sees a Colgate ad.”

Your laughter fills the lounge as you shake your head. Meanwhile, my thumb hovers over the screen. I know I have to answer — I never ignore her. She’ll assume something’s wrong if I do. I’m just not prepared for this conversation.

A few days ago, Pleasing announced that we’re releasing a vibrator and lube — part of a new line focused on sexual wellness. As expected, the reactions online are mixed. Some people have gone as far as to say I’m exploiting my mostly female fanbase, which feels like a dagger to the heart.

But that’s not what this is.

We’ve partnered with Zoë Ligon — a sex educator who’s been deeply involved throughout the process — and we’re also working with Planned Parenthood Federation of America. This launch is about promoting sexual positivity, health, wellness, self-expression, and opening up conversations that shouldn’t be taboo. Especially at a time when those conversations are constantly being threatened.

Still… explaining that to my mum? Yeah. Not ideal.

I answer the call and put her on speaker, catching you mouthing, “Let me hear.”

“Hey, Mum,” I say cautiously, leaning back into the sofa, already wincing.

“Harry Edward Styles,” she says immediately. “What the hell did I just see on Instagram?”

I shoot you a look. You’re already trying not to laugh.

“Um… depends what you saw,” I reply, grimacing.

“A…” she pauses, clearly trying to find the right words. “A pleasure device? By your brand? Not to mention the audio of you saying ‘please yourself like you me—’”

You slap a hand over your mouth, your shoulders shaking with silent laughter. I close my eyes, wishing the sofa would swallow me whole.

“Jesus- mum, can you not talk about that audio?” I groan. “It’s a wellness product.”

I’m thirty-one years old, and somehow this is still the most embarrassing conversation of my life.

“Oh, wellness, right,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “Nothing says self-care like a vibrating red rocket, does it?”

You lose it completely, wheezing beside me. I swat your thigh gently with the back of my hand, trying not to laugh too.

“Mum, please don’t say vibrating red rocket ever again.”

She snorts. “Oh, come off it. I’m not judging. In fact, I think it’s brilliant. People deserve nice things. And I read up on who you’re working with — that makes me proud. I just didn’t expect to see it show up between my lemon drizzle recipe reels.”