I was talking with a couple friends over the last few days (one a chick, the other a dude) and the topic turned to masturbating, the five-knuckle-shuffle, punching the one-eyed clown, double-clicking the mouse, paddling the pink canoe, whatever.
Both are in relationships…and both recently caught their significant others flying solo.
My lady friend was mortified. She was borderline hysterical. “OH MY GOSH, JESS! HE WAS TOUCHING HIMSELF!” She then became very emotional. “Am I not good enough to please him?” I asked if she had sex with him after. “EW NO! If he masturbates he can finish by himself.” It’s a hard knock life.
Personally, I thought she was taking it a little too hard (see what I did there?). I grew up with a bunch of guys, and from what I understand, sometimes dudes just need alone time; they need to fantasize about things other than their significant others. I didn’t tell the lady friend because she’d probably go Lorena Bobbitt on her man… and then sodomize me with a hot curling iron.
Now my guy friend was ecstatic when he walked in on his girl having a naughty solo session. “Jess, it was so fucking hot. I was at full mast in two seconds.” I asked if they banged. “I watched for a bit but then she got shy, so I rolled her over and fucked her from behind.” Nicely executed.
He wasn’t worried about his woman having alone time; he was just fucking stoked that she was horny. I don’t think it even crossed his mind that she could’ve been finger banging herself to someone other than him.
Whatever, man. Such is life.
When I went to get my tattoo, the tattoo artist said
Men are like microwaves. You just push a few buttons and we’re done between 10 seconds to 10 minutes. Women are like crock pots. You have to add water and all the fucking ingredients and let them stew in their own juices for fucking hours. The end product is good, but sometimes you just want a damned two-minute burrito.