I Touch Myself*

It’s a thorny topic, masturbation (well if you’re doing it wrong – ho ho!)

For me the main concern is a slight degree of anxiety as to what people are thinking about. Is that person watching that other person who is quite attractive in a way that would suggest a deposit in his “wank bank” for example? Well I really don’t want to know.

This topic was touched upon in The Fermata I think, but I can’t be bothered to go and find exactly when and how. Also I remember it being mentioned in an episode of Curb Your Enthusiam, the one with the incest survivors group.

Personally I think it is rather demeaning to masturbate while thinking about real people, particularly without their knowledge. Of course what they don’t know can’t harm them but imagine if it was someone you were in semi-regular contact with? Most people are capable of separating fantasy from reality but not everyone can. In an ideal world, you should always ask their permission first, although this could result in some very awkward conversations.

“Hello, I’ve just noticed you here and well you’re rather attractive. Are you interested in a representation of yourself, an avatar if you like, participating in various purely imagined degrees of sexual activity on a semi-regular basis in the next few weeks?”

In addition to this, it is not just being in someone’s masturbation fantasy that could be a bit of a problem, it is the things they might make you do in the course of their “session”. The mind can go to some odd places in those times.

Personally I think there should be some kind of hanky code (maybe a Kleenex code in this case). You see someone with this particular kind of hanky, and you know they’re perfectly happy to be fantasised about when you next masturbate. Excellent, fill your wank bank (that term is beyond vile by the way) The design of the hanky should give an indication of the kind of things they’re happy to do. For example:

“Yes I’m happy to participate in group activities and bumming but I’m not really into spit-roasting”

This way we can all be a bit less neurotic.

* For reasons losts in the mists of time for some reason, amongst a group of my friends “I Touch Myself” was considered to be “my song”. Why a Pretenders-rip off about a lady indulging in gusset typing by a couple of Australians was considered to be my song I have no idea, but it did lead to a hilarous moment when I was pleading entry to a crowded pub because they were playing “my song”. It didn’t get to be my song for ever though, as when I clumsily tried to snog some woman in a pub not knowing her rather large scary boyfriend was watching and my friends nearly dragged me out of the pub, it was replaced with the song playing at the time “If I Can’t Have You.” Now I don’t really have a theme song. Perhaps I should.