Masturbating is something you can learn!
Sex, it’s one of those topics that usually ends up on the table - often accompanied by French cheeses and red wine - during girls’ night. For hours, days, or rather years on end, my girlfriends and I are able to talk about our wildest nights, deepest desires and craziest fantasies.
While one always likes to discuss lesbian porn, which is surprisingly arousing - even if you’re not a lesbian, the other prefers to jump her one-night stand multiple times a night, and another prefers masturbating on a pillow. Masturbation, a form of sex that just didn’t do much for me for the longest time, mainly because I simply didn’t have the know-how required. The first time I had solo-sex, masturbated, fingered or whatever you want to call it, is engraved in my memory. I was sixteen when my best friend Lot asked me, sitting on a bench playing hooky, if I’d ever fingered myself. A rather direct question on a Thursday morning, even more so considering the fact that we were sitting on a bench behind the school. What if a handsome upperclassman overheard our conversation? Which, by the way, didn’t stop me from answering her question. ‘Yuck, no, of course not! Only boys do that, right?’, I said, rebelliously lighting a gross, but cool looking - or at least I used to think so - Marlboro light cigarette between my fingers. ‘What do you mean “Yuck”? It’s not that crazy. In fact, I did it yesterday and it was super chill. Try it sometime’, was Lot’s answer.
Curious as I was, but without any further instructions from Lot, I laid down in bed that night wearing my Snoopy pajamas. In fear of being caught by my mother, I rubbed up and down a couple of times and called it quits. A climax was nowhere in sight, so Lot’s statement ‘super chill’ seemed like an overstatement to say the least. It wasn’t until my 4th attempt that I managed to reach a climax. At last, I finally understood Samantha’s addiction in Sex of the City: the orgasm. It was euphoric, really, but not something I was longing for on a daily basis. In fact, I think the total number of times I masturbated didn’t even reach the twenties until I was twenty-three.
Why that number was so much lower than my friends', I don’t really know. Maybe, I just find it boring and lonely all by myself, because it’s not like the topic is never discussed during girls’ night out. No, the contrary is true, I’m bombarded with tips from left to right whenever I admit I just don’t masturbate that often. Sweet friend A advises me to reach for the showerhead, and friend B just can’t get enough of her own fingers - yes, even during working hours she treats herself in the bathroom stalls- and friend C has such a broad collection of vibrators even Christian Grey would be jealous.
After my friends’ bewilderment over my lack of ‘attention’ for myself, I decided to try out the finger - or the vibrator I should say. And let me tell you, it’s not as easy as it sounds. And I don’t necessarily mean the act itself, I mean, as a highly educated 25-year-old woman I should be able to manage, but finding the right vibrator? Because man, the options are endless. Translucent pink with circling balls, black with diamonds, big and small: there’s something for everyone. As I was still a newbie to the business, I decided to go for an entry level model together with friend D - who, thank God, didn’t have a “boyfriend” in her nightstand yet either. A small, black, inconspicuous model that you only need to hold against the clit to reach the peak screaming at the top of your lungs and that in less than 1:28 minutes (yes, I timed it). In the theme of “everything you give attention to, grows”, I can vouch that after some solo sessions with this type of “me-time”, it’s definitely worth trying.
In short: It’s not all that crazy to give yourself some love now and then. But I’m not entirely sold yet. Because, if you ask me, nothing beats a couple rounds of steamy sex with a tall, muscular man that’s real. Even if it means that you won’t reach your climax in 1:28 minutes.