Thursday, March 12, 2009

TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL


Masturbation. It’s not just for boys anymore. But tell that to some of my girl friends.

For men, a day without masterbation is like a day ending in a possible prison sentence.
Always part of the morning routine along with shaving, shitting, and showering – sometimes in conjunction with one or more of the above. Call it “going through the motions”, with ten fold the excitement associated with the phrase.

Women on the other hand, don’t have quite the same relationship for what lies between their legs. When casually mentioning my favorite past time (it’s up there with crafts, and drives in the countryside) my female friends look shocked, horrified, or just plain confused. And the mere mention of “toys” elicits an even stronger response. You can see their nervous minds racing between Fisher Price to vaginas and back again. This ‘does not compute’ response is rarely followed by any Q and A, and typically followed by an abrupt change of topic.

To me, masterbation is a no brainer with multiple benefits: Anger management. Blemish control. Clear eyes and bushy tail. Negating the need for expensive department store blush. Masterbation can reempt a Big Mac meltdown, and a long hot session beats long cold sessions with Ben and Jerry’s any day of the week.

But what is it exactly that stops women from touching themselves? Is it the same thing that makes them recoil in horror from dissecting a frog, is it just too messy a business? Or is it the fact that our love button is somewhat hidden within the folds of our femininity? For men there’s just no ignoring a morning rager that simply demands to be taken out and played with well before the black Lab gets his turn.

I’ve also noticed a glaring lack of vernacular for the female act of self-pleasuring. On the male side we have “choke the chicken”, “jerkin the gherkin”, “beatin the meat”, as well as a host of other non-food related metaphors – no such colloquialisms exist for the ladies. In an attempt to coin a few, we might take our cues from feminine hygiene advertising that speaks with a whisper soft touch: “gilding the lily”, “loving the lotus”, or “stroking the pink pony” might be quite nice. More LTR focused women might dig “engaging in a committed relationship with the clit”. Oprah fans may find her latest coinage “The AHA Moment” to do double duty.

Call it what you will, masturbation is life affirming, man manifesting, and just plain good clean dirty fun.

1 comment:

  1. At the heart of the problem, I think, is that too many women are fundamentally ambiguous about their own vaginas. It's hidden, you can't see it (without a hastily recruited compact mirror), it's high maintenance, subject to mutinous discharges, and worst of all, the threat of an occasional human being emerging from it, requested or not. Hi Mom! The elusive nature of the female orgasm doesn't help, nor the still lingering Puritanical directive that nice girls just don't think about sex, let alone plunge electrically driven appliances into their nether regions in wanton search of it.
    Men, on the other hand, are pretty much delighted with their genitalia, regardless of size, shape, cut or uncut--it's GRRRR-EAAT! Like pizza, when it's good, it's fuckin' awesome. And when it's bad, well, it's still...pretty damn good.
    Of course, guaranteed orgasms help....

    The Owen Show. Same bat time, same bat channel..

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