If someone asks me what my favorite sex toy is, I don’t say vibrator.I don’t say strap-on.I don’t say anything that requires charging.I say: lube.Yes. A humble bottle of slippery goodness has done more for my sex life than most gadgets combined. And yet, somehow, it’s still the most misunderstood, under-celebrated, occasionally side-eyed product in the bedroom.So when I kicked off the first Radio Pleasure Society of 2026, I decided: we’re giving lube the spotlight.Samuel Douek, founder of Howl — a London-based pleasure platform that started as a queer rave and evolved into a sexual wellness brand on a mission to tear down shame.
Howl didn’t begin in a lab.
It began on a dance floor.
For over a decade, Samuel had been running queer performance nights and underground raves — building inclusive spaces where intimacy and freedom weren’t just allowed, but celebrated. Then the pandemic hit. Nightlife shut down. Everything paused.
Instead of folding, Howl pivoted.
The idea? Take the euphoria of the rave — the sweat, the freedom, the connection — and bottle it.
But when Samuel looked at the sexual wellness market, he saw a landscape that felt… dated.
Very little felt radical. Very little felt honest. Almost none of it felt communal.
So Howl decided to make lube that didn’t whisper. It howled.
Samuel has spent years doing pop-ups, trade shows, queer festivals, handing out samples, talking to people face-to-face about lube. And he noticed a pattern.
Queer couples? Open. Curious. Interested.
Straight couples? Often game. “Yeah, spice it up.”
Women on their own? Curious.
But groups of straight female friends?
Awkward.
Defensive.
“I don’t need that.”
And that reaction says everything.
Because here’s the thing: lube isn’t a diagnosis. It’s not a failure. It’s not an emergency fix. It’s not a verdict on your body.
But somewhere along the way, we internalized the narrative that:
That’s not sex education. That’s shame.
Shame Is the Real Dry SpellWhat if we flipped the script?
What if lube wasn’t about “not being wet enough,” but about enhancement, exploration, and choice?
Samuel calls Howl’s philosophy: “liberation through exploration.”
And that hits.
Because whether you’re queer, straight, fluid, kinky, vanilla, partnered, solo — lube can:
It’s not about replacing desire. It’s about supporting it.
The queer community has known this for years. Lube is normalized in many gay male spaces because it has to be. It’s functional. It’s practical. It’s part of the ritual.
Meanwhile, straight culture still clings to this weird idea that “natural” equals “better,” and that needing support equals failure.
Howl’s mission isn’t just to sell you a bottle of slippery joy. It’s to dismantle shame — in packaging, in branding, in music, in campaigns.
That’s why Howl sits at the intersection of sex and music. It isn’t just a lube brand. It’s a pleasure platform born out of rave culture. DJs. Sweat. Bodies in motion. Shared joy.
Because intimacy doesn’t just happen in beds. It happens on dance floors. In conversations. In community.
And here’s the political layer we can’t ignore.
We are living through a sexual wellness revolution in big liberal cities — but at the same time, globally, we’re watching:
So celebrating queer pleasure?
Talking openly about intimacy?
Selling lube that centers LGBTQIA+ joy?
That’s not neutral.
It’s political.
One of the most powerful things Samuel said during our conversation was this:
He’s ready to retire the narrative of queer shame as the dominant storyline.
Yes, queer shame exists.
Yes, it’s real.
Yes, it deserves acknowledgment.
But queer joy also exists.
Queer sex exists.
Queer capitalism, queer failure, queer love, queer messiness — all of it exists.
And maybe brands like Howl — and platforms like Pleasure Society — get to be part of that shift.
Less “tragic queer trauma arc.”
More “wet, wild, unapologetic queer pleasure.”
Here’s what I’m taking with me:
If a tiny bottle of gel can trigger embarrassment, that tells us something. Not about lubrication — but about how deeply shame runs.
And if we can normalize lube — in straight bedrooms, queer bedrooms, solo sessions, long-term relationships, casual hookups — then maybe we’re not just improving sex.
We’re improving honesty.
And honestly? A set of hands and a good lube might still be my favorite toy.