A loving guide to procasturbation

Image credit: Giorgione

Being in a long-distance relationship (my unfortunate boyfriend currently lives 5500 miles away), I’ve recently become very well acquainted with my fingers. Specifically, the first and second fingers on my left hand, and the magical effect that they seem to have when aggressively flicking my bean (such a charming euphemism): like a narcotics trip and a big cuddle rolled into one.

I was pretty late to the self-pleasure party: probably an effect of my crazy-puritanical family, and the gnomes that apparently inhabit the gap between their legs where most people’s genitalia are. Couple that with a healthy dose of patriarchal crap and you have a sure-fire recipe for the kind of girl who thinks that the second you reach for your nether-regions the devil himself will pop out from between your labia and waggle his eyebrows. 

Taboo still means that less than half of women will admit to masturbating more than once a week, but I’m pretty sure lying is worse for the soul than owning up to a strum on the lady-guitar. Time and boredom, however, pretty quickly drew me to the path of sin, and I’ve never looked back. Actively locating my clitoris was a rite of passage as important as my first kiss, or training bra. Penis-owners, I’m not really sure how this worked for you, but I’m pretty sure it was a happy, happy day when you discovered that you could make fireworks go off in your head by tugging on the old meat-monkey. My congratulations.

So, procrasturbation. It’s more than my favourite portmanteau (procrastination plus masturbation), it’s a way of life. Cambridge is a high stress environment, I’m a busy woman, and my bed is uncomfortably small for two people: a conspiracy, I’m sure. For these reasons, I’m here to convince you to beat out a couple of orgasms a day.

There’s even some handy science behind it: read up and you might not feel quite so guilty next time you ditch the library for the bedroom (or public toilet, if you’re desperate. No judgement). Dr Piers Steel from the University of Calgary recently undertook hymen-breaking research which suggested that the rush of hormones achieved during orgasm stimulates a much larger portion of the brain than something like brain training-exercises. In the moments after orgasming all that blood that was raging around downtown suddenly floods back into your brain, giving you a stimulating burst of energy.

Next time you’re up to your eyeballs in Chaucer or the Krebs cycle, take some you-time and get reacquainted with your not-so-privates. It has to be more satisfying than memorising half of Buzzfeed (‘12 Life Changing Ways to Eat Eggs in 2016’ is a personal favourite), or stalking your significant other’s exes on Facebook (which as a mature adult I have obviously never done). Besides, it’s good for you. And if nothing else, a good wank is invariably better than a bad shag.

P.S – Dr Steel: if you ever need any new subjects for your experiments, I am ready and willing.

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