"...masturbation can be fun...." --Hair
At the age of 18, I decided I was fucked up because I didn't masturbate. "It's normal and healthy to explore your body!" my mother told me. "It's normal and healthy to explore your body!" books on sexuality would tell me. So I decided that, since I did not masturbate, I was obviously unhealthy and abnormal, and set out to fuck myself.
It's funny -- there's no instruction manual on how to masturbate. There are TONS of books about how to have satisfying sex with a partner, and a few about having satisfying sex with SEVERAL partners, but how to masturbate???
"...sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner..." --Red Hot Chili Peppers
How to masturbate... Well, first, I guess, to properly explore one's own body, one would have to be naked. So I stripped, only that seemed weird, to just be standing in my room naked. One should probably be relaxed and comfortable, too, I guess. Seems logical, anyway. So I ran a hot bath and stepped in.
How to masturbate... Okay, so I've got the basics taken care of -- all the preparations. Now the only question was... what was I supposed to DO?
"Masturbation allows you to understand your body, to know what pleases you... You are the best lover you will ever have..." Well, THAT's not putting the pressure on or anything, is it!?
I set out to discover things that pleased me, starting from the top down. No, playing with my own hair did nothing for me. Petting my own neck did nothing for me, nor did playing with my ears. Shoulders, clavicle, armpits, ditto. Breasts. Okay, well, breasts are supposed to be an erogenous zone, so what the hell... I poked at them. I prodded them. I jiggled them around and pretended they were Jell-o. I pinched the nipples. It was an amusing little game, but this was not the release, the total-self-discovery, the spiritual passion I was seeking. It was fun in the same way that playing with mud and squishy worms are fun. Breasts have a REALLY cool texture.
Still, I wasn't quite getting it right, I didn't think. So I skipped poking at my stomach and decided to poke around at my genitals for awhile. Now, theoretically, if you poke the right spot on the outside of your body, it's extremely stimulating. I could not find that spot. Frustrated, I got out of the bathtub, and found a book about sexuality that my mom gave me when I was 12 -- one of the ones that said, "exploring your body is normal and healthy!" -- and found the picture of the naked spread-eagle woman with all her parts labelled. I found the spot on HER body that supposedly stimulated her, and I found a spot on my body that looked quite similar, but I poked and prodded and rubbed and squeezed and was very close to taking a wrench to this little thing, and was STILL unable to feel any particular thrill. Oh, it didn't feel BAD. It felt like I was wrapped in warm pajamas directly out of the dryer, and lying in a warm bed on a cold night: very relaxed. BUT! I did not burst out singing, and I did not burst into tears, and I did not have to stifle moans and groans, and THAT is what I was seeking.
...Because exploring your body is normal and healthy.
...And it's natural to be the best lover you've ever had.
I was depressed, to say the least. I was unable to give myself an orgasm no matter WHAT I did. That day in the bathtub, I tried some stuff I would never in a million years describe in this journal. NOTHING worked. No orgasm, no moans, no groans, no spiritual awakening.
I even tried imagining somebody else in the bathtub with me. Nothing.
On a hunch, I tried something else. I tried to tickle myself. THAT didn't work either. It's strange -- to be totally unresponsive to your own touch... But I suppose I am. Hmph. It seems the only way I can feel sexual pleasure -- REAL pleasure, not just warm-and-fuzzy pleasure -- is with the aid of another human being. Perhaps it's the element of surprise, the element of anticipation...
Perhaps it's because I don't have to freaking do everything my-freaking-self.
Getting off is a lot of work.
It's a lot like cooking. Seems absolutely pointless to make a good meal if you're simply going to eat it all by yourself, and so opening a can of spaghettios and brewing some coffee seems easiest. Unless somebody else is eating with you, in which case, not only do you hide the spaghettios and make a four-course meal, but you have jell-o cups for dessert, and THOROUGHLY enjoy every moment of it. Pampering yourself doesn't seem very interesting unless there's somebody else around to be interested with you.
Oh well. Can't say I didn't try.
~Helena*
"...Doc Wells says: 'If you're not crankin' it, you must be yankin' it..." --Doc Wells, 99.1 WAAL-FM, circa 1992.