Hey Ken & Ariel: Embarrassing as it may sound, I can’t stop masturbating. Even though I’ve been in a relationship with a woman for six years now, I still jerk off at least once, sometimes twice or three times a day. Is this normal?
Ken Says: I feel this is a question I’m especially qualified to answer. For one thing,
I’ve logged enough self-love hours to qualify as the Mayor of Faptonia.
For another, like you, even during those times when I’ve found myself knee-deep in pussy (which, I’ll admit, come as rarely as an astronaut sighting at Taco Bell), I’ve still managed to keep up a healthy “partnership” with Little Ken.
Is it a hobby? An obsession? A tool for stress-release? I’m not sure. And I’ve never had the patience or the wherewithal to try to figure it out. It’s just something that I’ve done since I was a teenager, despite the constant warnings from the Catholic church and my Aunt Bernice that it would send me straight to hell.
The first girl I ever slept with is probably still traumatized by the memory of me burying my hard-on deep inside her and yelling, “Whoa, this is WAY better than my hand!”
Clearly, I don’t think it’s something to be embarrassed about. You’re a guy. You have a penis. It’s gonna happen. If God didn’t want us to wank, he would have given us flippers instead of hands that conveniently reach our junk.
Why the fuck do you think Shamu is so goddam miserable?
There are even some studies that suggest that masturbation helps ward off prostate cancer, which allows you to explain being caught in the closet with a copy of Ass Parade magazine as “an important, life-saving procedure.” It’s also critical to making sure that your testicles never get full to the point of medical trauma. I mean, what if they make too much semen and it starts to build up? Do they risk bursting? You don’t want to be the first guy to find out.
As to whether or not it’s “normal”, so long as you’re doing it in the privacy of your own home or workspace or voting booth and not, say, the plywood aisle of Home Depot, you should be fine. It’s also not the kind of thing I’d bring up in casual conversation.
The last thing Bill from accounting needs to know is what you and your right hand were doing before work.
If you ever get to the point that you prefer lefty and/or righty to your girlfriend, that should probably raise a red flag, too.
Otherwise, I say carry on, Sargent. Because I know I will. In fact, I’m guessing that until my johnson is either rendered inoperable due to age or overuse, I’ll always be the guy who takes an extra five minutes or so in the shower.
You’re welcome for the visual.
Ariel Says: It sounds like you’re your own best friend, and there’s nothing wrong with that!
Despite the nuns’ dire warnings when I was in school, I’m proud to announce that I still have my eyesight,
my soul is intact, and the only obvious injury was to my old teddy bear, who has since filed a restraining order (but has not, thankfully, pressed charges.)
On a serious note, masturbation is a natural, healthy act, enjoyed in the privacy of one’s home, preferably out of sight of the mailman, visiting in-laws and especially the family pet. Let’s face it, Barney does NOT need to see that shit. The poor dog’s suffered enough, with his bedazzled leash, two walks up and down the driveway a day and that horsemeat excuse for food; he doesn’t need to watch you playing the flesh trombone.
The only issue I can think of is if your personal massage interferes with, or replaces, your sex life. The nuns may have been correct in one respect: sex was created to be enjoyed between two people, not your two hands.
And in my humble opinion, with a little creativity and proper attention, sex with your partner should trump any solo performance.
I mean, come on, between the two of you, you’ve got four hands, twenty fingers, two tongues and multiple orifices. That’s like comparing Lean Cuisine to the all-you-can-eat brunch at the Four Seasons!
Need wildly impractical sex advice? From English majors? Send your questions to firstname.lastname@example.org or visit kenandariel.com. If we answer yours, Ariel might just show up at your place with a bottle of cheap booze. And her lawyer.