I grew up in a Catholic home where masturbation was considered very sinful and wrong. It was considered downright dangerous– the cause of physical infection. I grew up being afraid to touch myself. Once I was sexually active in college, I finally overcame that fear of touching myself. I realized that if my partner touching me with his hands and his cock wasn’t dangerous and wasn’t causing infections, then me touching myself with my own hands wasn’t going to be dangerous either. I did some emotional work to heal the damage that my Catholic upbringing had done, and then I began masturbating without shame or fear.
Yet throughout my marriage and since my divorce, masturbating has been a chore. It’s something I do because I have to release the sexual frustration and tension in my body. It’s no different than eating or drinking or shitting. It’s something my body requires. However, it’s not something I enjoy. Yes, I do get pleasure and relaxation from masturbating. I can make myself squirt. I usually have multiple orgasms. And still, it’s completely empty. It’s not fun. It’s just masturbating. It’s a chore.
I’m not sure why masturbating is not much fun for me. Part of it has to do with my ex-husband having a masturbation fetish. He was far more interested in me masturbating than in me having sex with him. That just hurt. I wanted to be in a relationship with a man who wanted to have sex with me, not a man who wanted to get off masturbating while thinking about me having sex on my own rather than actually having sex with me.
I think some of it may be related to my love language, too. If you aren’t familiar with the Five Love Languages, I highly recommend learning about them. I wish my ex-husband and I had known about them much sooner. I doubt it would have saved the marriage, but maybe we would have understood each other better. My love language is physical touch. I need to be touched by someone else to feel loved by them. When I’m masturbating, I’m not being touched by anyone else. I’m very much alone. That’s just not as enjoyable for me.
The best analogy I can give about masturbation for me is that it’s like eating when you have a really bad cold. Nothing tastes right, if you can taste it at all. You’re often not really hungry, but you know you need to eat to keep your strength up. Eating is just something you do to survive. That’s how masturbating is for me most of the time. I don’t really want to take the time and make the effort to do it, but I know my body is filled with sexual tension that I have no other outlet for. So when it gets too bad to tolerate, my Magic Wand and I take care of business.
When I am lucky enough to have a partner, we tend to have sex at every opportunity. I like sex a lot. Every other day is a minimum for me. But with masturbating when I’m single? Once a month is usually enough. If I am getting wild and crazy, twice a month will happen. What is odd is that I masturbate more when I have a partner. Then it’s more like once or twice a week. Sex begets more sex? I don’t know. I don’t mind masturbation as much when I’m with a partner since I know that I’ll be having sex with him soon enough, and I’m usually thinking about him or sexting with him while I am masturbating. But on my own, it just seems pathetic and sad. Solo masturbation is not the joyous experience I wish it was.