It’s good if masturbation is a matter of course. But let’s go with it to routine before? Our author heard that solo sex can turn into deep love. And was: deeply touched.
test object: Antonie Hänel, who up to now had a, well, very efficient way of masturbating in her repertoire
Test Environment: So much in advance: not just the bedroom
Mission: Self love you can touch!
I hadn’t imagined it like that. I’m sitting cross-legged on a yoga mat in my living room, a vibrator is buzzing between my legs, and the woman on Youtube wants to kill me. I’m supposed to breathe in and out rhythmically for a few minutes and then hold my breath. Longing. “A little longer,” she says, while I feel completely different. But not in a good way. Just before I faint, I allow myself to breathe, close the laptop with the last of my strength and sink into the mat in exasperation.
Is that all?
Since I stopped rubbing stuffed animals as a young girl and started using my fingers for that nice “down there” feeling, not much has changed for me when it comes to masturbation. I only need two fingers and five minutes to have an orgasm. No seduction, no foreplay, no variation – I would not let a man offer me that. So why do I settle for that when masturbating?
I’m not the first to have this thought. With the corona pandemic, the “Mindful Masturbation” sex trend also emerged. Mindful masturbation should not only lead to better orgasms, but also to more self-love. At that point at the latest, I was convinced that self-love had been an issue for me for a long time. When a pastel tile on Instagram tells me to be nicer to myself, my inner voice yells at me, “Did you hear, bitch? Be nicer to yourself!” And if sex in partnerships strengthens love, why shouldn’t sex with myself do the same?
Get to know yourself better
However, masturbatory yoga is not my route to self-love, that’s for sure. Instead, I now turn to the site OMGyes.com for inspiration on how to take my solo sex to the next level. The site encourages women to explore their bodies with explicit video tutorials. One of the tips is to push yourself up, so stop just before you reach orgasm and start again. I go straight into the practice, but after all the videos I’m so turned on that I can’t stop myself. Damn, that was even faster than usual.
It’s better to study the theory first: the master class by sex therapist Emily Morse. She explains that the “power of mindful masturbation” is all about being curious: “The goal is exploration, not orgasm.” I should take my time, seduce myself. “What do you do when a lover comes to visit? Do it for yourself.” Understood. I take a shower, apply lotion, light candles and start my sexy playlist. I should perceive myself, is the announcement, also visually. Emily Morse asks if I would recognize my vulva in a row of vulvas. I have serious doubts about that, I don’t know when I last looked. So I get the mirror and spread my legs. Actually quite pretty, I think a little proudly. And then go to bed with a whole new vulva self-confidence and get to work.
I’m horny and I’ve got things to do!
But masturbating without orgasm is more difficult than meditating without wandering. I have to constantly remind myself to take it easy. I have no practice in that. I am getting impatient. What is this? I’m horny and I’ve got things to do! The laundry, the groceries, the bills… no, focus! Stay here, be in the moment, look for new erogenous zones, feel the touch. I roll my eyes and feel nothing. Uninspired, I rub my palm, thighs, elbows, trying not to fall asleep. Apparently I’m bored with myself.
Waking up in a puddle of spilled lube, an ominous thought occurs to me: What if self-love doesn’t create self-love, but self-love is the prerequisite for mindful masturbation? Actually logical: If I’m angry with my boyfriend, I don’t want to be close to him either. Why should I treat myself to love if I don’t like myself right now? But I won’t give up that easily. With increasing desperation and the deadline for this article behind me, I try everything over the next few days to still establish a connection to myself: I use sex toys, I try it with my left hand, I rely on the element of surprise (once at the kitchen table masturbating?). I’m really extremely satisfied this week, but nothing more is happening.
This time of the month…
An event then pushes my masturbation challenge completely unexpectedly: abdominal cramps from hell. Happens to me every month, but it hasn’t been that bad in a long time. I wrap myself around my hot water bottle, take two ibuprofen and suffer. For a whole day, into the night, until I can finally fall asleep. Something changed the next morning. My abdomen has calmed down, I’m fine again, I can breathe deeply. And with the sudden absence of pain, I feel a completely different connection to my body.
Anyone who has ever been relieved of a bad toothache or headache should know what I mean: the normal state is heaven. “You famous miracle, you!” I shower my body with compliments now. “How nice it is with you, how great you work, what you make possible, how much I love you!” I promise him to only do me good today. I run, use the expensive shampoo, cook for myself, offer myself all the pampering, go to bed very early and put on music. Now I’m in the right mood.
And finally I get it. In utter gratitude for my painless body, I stop pursuing any particular feeling and just perceive. My fingertips let one goosebump after the other scurry over my body. In the inner sides of my upper arms I discover the hidden erogenous zones that Emily Morse talked about. Instead of tensing up, I focus on taking deep breaths as arousal builds. And if it gets too hot, I’ll continue elsewhere as the videos showed me.
Can I have some more, please!
And I’m having fun doing it. I want to drag it out, prolong it, I want more of it. I don’t know if it’s the extensive foreplay, the gratitude for my pain-free body, or the new vibrator with a thrusting function (highly recommended!) – but the orgasm at the grand finale explodes with a scream. Hasn’t happened to me before either.
Looking at the clock, I realize I’ve made love to myself for almost an hour. Literally. Afterwards I feel not only satisfied but also proud, deeply relaxed and somehow complete, like I’m lying in my own arms. After the intoxication of the happiness hormones subsides and I can think clearly again, I have a realization. Self-love doesn’t mean finding yourself perfect from top to bottom and outside to inside. Self-love comes from simple gratitude. For example for the functioning body or for the possibility of being able to feel touch and feel emotions. And so profane masturbation can become a declaration of love to oneself.