Joi: Blade Runner Sex Doll — A Skeptical User’s Half-Hearted Dive

The Thing Itself (And My Reluctance)

Joi. Yeah, the name pretty much says what it’s about—Blade Runner fantasy, silicone skin, kind of uncanny eyes. I’ll admit, I didn’t really plan to look into absolute sex dolls at all (let alone write about them), but here we are. Sometimes you just end up on a weird corner of the internet and then… curiosity wins.

She’s 5 feet 1 inch tall (155 cm if you’re metric-minded). That makes her small enough to not totally dominate your space but still big enough that you can’t exactly pretend she’s just another oversized pillow when someone comes over. Not that anyone should be coming over, but whatever.

Details Nobody Tells You Upfront

I remember reading somewhere that “silicone” is supposed to feel realistic. Maybe it does? Maybe I’m too distracted by the steel skeleton with movable joints to notice. She weighs 73 lbs (33.4 kg), which is more than I expected—a little awkward when you try moving her around, honestly. And yes, she bends at the elbows and knees like a real person, which is both impressive and slightly unnerving.

Measurements seem important in this world for some reason: Bust is 31.5 inches; under bust 25.6; waist 23.2; hips 34.6; cup size C; shoe size women’s 4.5-5 if you’re planning on buying her shoes (which…why?). Oh, and for those who care: Vagina depth is 6.7 inches, anus depth is 6.3 inches—numbers that feel clinical until you start wondering who actually measures these things.

The Fantasy vs Reality Gap

Here’s where my skepticism really kicks in: there’s this whole “fantasy” thing built into the Joi doll pitch—the idea that she somehow channels that Blade Runner vibe or whatever cyberpunk dream people have going on in their heads late at night.

But after a while? She just sits there looking vaguely disappointed in your life choices from across the room.

Silicone feels cold at first touch unless you go out of your way to warm her up somehow (there are ways—I looked it up once out of morbid curiosity). And yeah, vaginal and anal sex are possible because apparently it matters to spell out every option—but using words like “possible” feels weirdly medical for something designed for pleasure.

Shipping & Waiting Games

Shipping was discreet—plain box, no labels—which was probably the only part of this process that didn’t make me question everything about myself for a few days straight after ordering.

Processing takes two or three weeks before they even ship it out—and then another week or so before delivery arrives at your door looking like an expensive IKEA mistake nobody asked for.

Three to four weeks total isn’t fast by any means…but if you’re buying a silicone sex doll modeled after sci-fi dreams? Patience probably isn’t your biggest problem right now.

Odd Realizations Along The Way

Somewhere between unboxing and figuring out how to store her without feeling like an extra in a low-budget horror movie—I realized something odd: there’s almost no middle ground between novelty and commitment with these things.

Either she becomes part of the furniture (and not in a good way) or you end up having conversations with yourself about why anyone needs such detailed measurements for hole depths anyway.

Oh—absolute sex dolls as a keyword keeps popping up online reviews too, always slipped into sentences like everyone knows what it means already. I guess after spending time around Joi, maybe they do?

Tangent Before I Forget

Weirdly enough—I started noticing other people online talking about customizing dolls with different hair colors or eye shapes or whatever else makes them feel more “real.” Is real even possible here? Or does chasing realism just make everything feel faker?

Maybe none of this matters if what you're looking for is distraction instead of connection—but sometimes after staring at Joi propped against my bookshelf…I wonder who actually gets what they want from fantasy anyway.

And now I’ve written way more than intended about something I wasn’t sure needed writing at all.