The Great Masturbation Mystery

Yesterday, for what I realized was the first time in a decade or more, I thought about a celebrity during masturbation. I started to write this whole thing about it but ultimately decided it would be irresponsible to address the topic without doing a little research. I decided to post a poll on Taboo’s instagram and was able to gather the masturbatory preferences–of around 300 people. Here’s what you had to say.

Interesting! I truly thought I, as an infrequent celebrity masturbator, would be in the minority. In depth analysis of celebrity masturbation at the end of this essay.

This seems about right. Masturbating to an ex is tricky. I’ve found it works best when you and the person have shared great sex but not much else. Masturbating to a lost love is nice but you run the risk ending up in tears instead of in orgasm. As for middle of the road exes… why?

Y’all lying. You know what masturbation is for, right? It’s about getting yourself off in whatever headspace you want, touching yourself how you want, sharing or not sharing with whomever you want. I am exceedingly attracted to my partner. Like, he sometimes has to shoo me out of the bathroom when he’s showering because I’m hiding behind a plant trying to sneak peeks. The sex is very, very good but that doesn’t have much baring on his position in my imagination list.

This one seems reasonable.

And now you’re lying again. Either that, or you didn’t understand the question. “Enemies” covers the following categories:

People who have done you wrong
People you don’t see eye-to-eye with but there is sexual tension
People you don’t particularly like and there is no sexual tension but whose image surprises you by popping up as soon as your hand is down your pants
Comic Supervillains

Back to celebrity masturbation. Upon realizing that I almost never do it, my obvious instinct was analyzation. The celebrity who unexpectedly found himself between my legs yesterday was not one I currently crush on. I know his television character but I don’t know him at all, not even in a weak and fabricated way. Before today, I didn’t know his name and I hadn’t ever really cared to.

Maybe this means that celebrities only work for me (and you?) when they feel as ambiguous and inaccessible as they are. Maybe even fantasy fares better with a little bit of truth.

In case you’re wondering, the person who ended my masturbatory celebrity celibacy was Billy Brown.