Anon talks about it because no one else will.
* * *
As I sit down to share yet another grossly overt, no holds barred detail of my life, I am uncharacteristically shy. The issue at hand (note the gratuitous play on words here) is…(clearing my throat)…(getting a glass of water)…(turning a deep shade of scarlett)…masturbation. I can speak openly about shagging, share ‘til I’m blue in the face about my fake tits, broadcast the current style of my pubic hair, but I am struggling with this subject.
I was a late bloomer in the “big O” department. I lost my virginity at the age of 14, but I didn’t feel anything resembling an orgasm until I was 20 FREAKIN YEARS OLD! Perhaps other girls were seeing heaven on the regular, but it was NOT something they shared. And there I was, faking orgasms for six years without really realising I was faking them, thinking that an orgasm was an elusive, non-concrete thing like love or extra sensory perception (which I totally have, minus the ability to bend forks with my mind, but I knew who was calling before the days of caller ID. Seriously.)
I took a lover (I’ve always wanted to write that) at the age of 20 who was four years older than me and very well versed in the art of humping. After I was done with one particularly award-winning round of thunderous phony climaxing, he asked why I was faking it. I was baffled…but I did orgasm, didn’t I?? He masterfully introduced me to my clitoris and instructed me on what to do with it, and HOLY F*CKING SH!TBALLS!! After that, my days were filled with masturbating. I couldn’t get enough of it. I was making up for years and years of not knowing that my body was capable of that type of pleasure (I honestly can’t stand the word “pleasure”… It’s so, ew. Like the word “moist”.) Also, side note, the novelty of masturbation has since worn off. Just in case you thought I was a freak. Not that you are a freak if you do it all the time…well maybe you are a freak and that’s why you do it all the time. Go Freaks!
Slowly, I began talking to my girlfriends about it. Not divulging that I was like a dog in heat and beating off every five seconds, but rather learning what their experiences with masturbation had been. One of my closest girlfriends who knew EVERYTHING about me and I thought vice-versa, stated that she had been flicking her bean since she was two. Another one almost shat herself over the fact I didn’t have a vibrator. I don’t know what I thought about vibrators except that I didn’t think about them until that point. She took me to a sex shop where I splurged on a top-of-the-line sex toy and that evening I went to bed before it was dark outside. HOLY MARY MOTHER OF ALL THINGS HOLY! Like seriously, whoa. Not for the faint of heart but now that I’ve gone there, I can’t go back. Well, if I was on a desert island with nothing, I would make do. But I’d prefer not to.
I have a 5-year-old niece who masturbates…constantly. Turn around for two seconds and she’s under a blanket, grunting. The blanket is a new thing, by the way. She used to drop down into a little frog position any time she damn well pleased. Family barbeques, church, she didn’t discriminate. “It feels good” she bluntly explained when asked why she was doing it, duh. My sister has gently explained to her that she understands that it feels good but that it is a really private thing that should only be done when she’s alone in her bedroom. And she’s right, I mean we can’t all be humping lampposts and rubbing the little man in the canoe every chance we get. We live in a civilised society after all.
But I can’t help but detect a small amount of hypocrisy within our society surrounding the topic of female pleasure — why is there such a stigma surrounding female masturbation and not male? I’m pretty sure I learned what “jerking off” was around the same time I learned to write my name. I recall a kids’ book called What’s Happening to Me? In which there is a cartoon drawing of a little dude standing on a diving board with a boner because there are some cute girls playing in pool. I don’t, however, recall that the next page had a picture of a girl getting excited over a poster of Justin Bieber. It’s as though female pleasure, in general, is taboo. I mean, it’s totally normal for girls to rush around telling their friends all of the sordid details involved with getting finger-banged at a party but they’re so out of touch (play on words…) with their own bodies that they don’t realise that they can get themselves off FAR better than some dirty-finger-nailed, pimply fella.
I don’t write this article with the hopes that everyone run out and start having a party for one. But I do think there is something to be said about recognising your own body as a source of pleasure and not assuming that guys are the only method of attaining that pleasure. And don’t sell yourself short by faking orgasms! If he (or she) is not doing is right, TELL THEM. If you’re not comfortable enough to communicate your sexual needs to your partner, then you may want to rethink the partnership. It’s all about empowering yourself, I think you should get to know your own body before you let anyone else do it for you. Unless, of course, you take a lover who knows more about pleasing you than you do and that’s a) about as realistic as dancing on Mars with a unicorn b) the stuff of fiction novels (hint: starts with Fifty, ends with Grey) or c) because your “lover” runs on two AA batteries. My Cassanova is no longer running around showing women how to fondle themselves…he took three hits of acid and thought he could fly. But that’s a story for another day. Good night, sleep tight.
Pic from here.