Boys In Chairs: That Time I Couldn’t Masturbate By Myself Anymore

I remember when it first happened a while back. I wasn’t able to sleep late at night. I was lying in my bed listening to the sounds of night envelop me; the ticking of my clock, cars revving their engines and people coming home from nights out. I could see the bright red lights that bathed the city as I stared at my iPhone as it blinked 3 A.M. The best way to cure this bout of insomnia was to get off, I thought. I typed in my favorite porn site into my phone, and as the scene was starting I snaked my hand under the covers. I tried to get my thumb in its familiar position so that I could start enjoying myself. I immediately noticed a marked difference; my hand wasn’t doing what I wanted it to. The muscle contractures were too strong, and I couldn’t relax enough to find any rhythm or momentum. I was doubly annoyed because I could hear the muted, mumbled voices of the porn stars enjoying each other in their scene on my phone. I bet that they had no clue how much I wanted to rub one out to them. I was simultaneously angered that I hadn’t heeded the advice of my physiotherapist when I was younger. I wish I had done those seemingly unimportant finger strengthening exercises then – that mobility would come in handy now (pun definitely intended). Goddamnit! I was determined to keep trying. I contorted my body and hands as best I could, but to no avail. For a split second, I began laughing uncontrollably thinking, “Maybe God does punish you for masturbating. Or maybe it’s just the disabled kids?” I then let out a reserved sigh of anger and frustration, which was wrapped in a huge overwhelming ball of fear and uncertainty that I can’t even really describe in words. I rolled over in my bed and forced myself to turn off the porn and try to sleep. The fear churned in my stomach and I started to cry, angry that this was happening, and thinking, “What do I do now? Why me?”