A Love Letter To Masturbation
Although we had a late, awkward start to this relationship of ours (my bad for abandoning you in college, girl), goodness did you remain patient from jump, never pressuring your presence on me. Just gentle once-in-a-while reminders that if needed, you were always only a finger away. Thank you for waiting. Though I'm sure you probably smirked at the sound of my fake orgasms with fake experts, knowing damn well you were the best professor for me… even if I remained absent from class.
Truthfully, half of me felt intimidated the other half fascinated. I knew you'd require my overthinking to undress itself and reveal sides to me that only lingered behind these walls. I didn't know if I was ready to explore and dammit I wish I could insert an R Kelly line in here right now for purposes of wit, but that would kill the mood. Much like me once wondering if God was even out here blessing touchy-feely humans with moments of privacy.
Even though male self-fulfillment was wet with normalcy, as a woman it almost felt like in order to play, I needed a permission slip and that just made me feel delighted, I mean dirty, I mean ughhhhhhh. When I finally gave the art of sexual autonomy a spin, it was short-lived ending with my mind dismissing it as one dry exercise in silly delusion. Enjoying my body as a tool for anything other than outside validation, felt foreign and fantasizing about someone hella vividly just to remember you're actually hella alone, under the sheets, trying to get your vagina to crack a smile, didn’t turn me on.
OMG, remember that one time I jumped into an AOL chatroom, fell for a cute screen-name and proceeded to front like we were best friends? LOLOL.
Crazy how for so long I felt more comfortable with any hand other than my own. It wasn't until that break up with homeboy in 2011, when you winked at me from bed, knowing I was about to enter a lengthy solo period and finally get some, er, alone time.
You came through.
You taught me that partners weren't a requirement for pleasure.
Shit, there was that time when I was getting ready for you, flipping through my mental channels, sick of every face that popped up, thinking they were all unworthy of even getting play within my imagination and right there you taught me how to enjoy myself without imagery, only feeling. Pro status.
You also taught me not to chase lust on the hunt for affection, that self-love often nuzzles up between my thighs, how sexual energy and creative flow are one in the same, to share what I learned with whomever climbed into my bed and that a teaspoon of saliva can go a looooong way.
You are my longest most loyal relationship and for that I will always make myself available to you.
Thank you so much, my babe. Cheers to many more good times.