Girls v My Own Right Hand
by ron provine

Times there are when I simply must jack off.  The
sexual tension gets so great that it threatens to
erupt suddenly into something productive, such as
going to lift weights or write some long past-due
papers and I simply must squash such productive urges.
I admit, there are even times when I will go into a
public bathroom, if no other place is available, lock
a stall door and occasionally make grunting noises to
imply I am taking a shit while, in point of fact, I am
hot and heavy in the middle of self-love.


Not ten minutes ago I was in precisely that situation
and I got to thinking (when some jackass came in and
used the next stall--thus forcing me to stop what I
was doing until he was done)--I wonder whether I
actually prefer sex or jacking off.

   
I'd liken it to seeing a band live vs listening to
a CD.  Let me explain--when you see a band live, there
is some sort of thrill because you're *there*,
supporting the band, seeing a show that inferior
creatures to yourself will never ever see.  In some
cases, with some people, you establish some sort of
credibility (hereinafter known as "cred") for
attending a live show of some bands.  And a really
good live show is unequalled, unparalleled--sitting in
a dorm room listening to a CD pales in comparison to
being able to smell the sweat and (especially in pussy
emo shows) see the tears of the guys who wrote the
songs.


More often, though, a live show involves paying 5-10
dollars you could have used to buy 4-8 King Cobras to
go stand in a hot, uncomfortable room full of high
school kids and punk rock cliches to listen to a
tired, road-weary band try to overcome a shitty PA
system and blare out the one or two hits that the
suburban dicks turned out in groves, girlfriends
firmly in their arms, to see.  In these cases, I yearn
to be in my room, listening to a CD and surrounded by
4-8 King Cobras.


Sexual activity is sort of the same way.  There are
times when you find yourself with a good fuck--some
chick who leaves you drained, elated, feeling like a
MAN.  But for the most part, real sex involves going
out (or at least back to your room) with a girl who,
once she begins to talk, begins to get less and less
sexy.  The more she bores you with stories of her
father, sister, friends, former boyfriends and (god
help you when this happens) her insipid views on world
affairs, until you are forced to view her as an object
of sexual desire only.  (Objectification of women
isn't cruel, as feminists assert--in most cases it is
the only way to redeem an otherwise worthless
creature.)  You go, have uninspired sex, deal with the
pre and post game chatter--and all for what?  So you
can tell your friends the next day you were with a hot
chick.  To establish some sort of pecking order in
your little clan.  And don't get me wrong--that's
important.  Some girls are like Superchunk--the show's
shitty, but if it comes anywhere near you you've gotta
get in on the action.


With masturbation, on the other hand, things are
different.  YOU are the master of your fate--no
inepitude on the girl's part can come into play--all
she has to do is be an image in your mind.  Even women
can handle that.  You write her dialogue (if any is
needed), you design her clothing (outlandish leather
outfits that no girl except a porn star or prostitute
would ever really wear?  Nothing at all?  No
problem--it's all up to you, sport!), you decide what
she does.  A quick hard fuck?  An elaborate bondage
scenario?  An outerspace scene featuring Buck Rogers
costumes and munchkins singing Pavement songs?  Sure
thing!  Whatever makes you happy--because the only
peson who truly lives only to make YOU happy (that
would be YOU) is all in control.


Masturbation is cheap, easy, convenient, fun, and
allows for your sexual imagination to really run its
course.  It even makes you better, for those girls who
truly *are* good fucks, so that when you are with them
you can be more insightful and artistic as you make
love to them (don't forget that those all to rare
worthwhile girls deserve your ALL).  It relieves
stress and cleans out your prostate.


So all in all, sex is nice, but often hard to find,
expensive, and not worth all the effort.  Like all too
many shows.  Self-love is, on the whole, a far
preferable option for the man of taste, imagination,
and a true appreciation for the simpler pleasures.