You’ve finally ended your toxic, directionless partnership with Paul and are committed to focusing on yourself. Good for you! Unfortunately, that doesn’t make sex you once had any less good – or masturbation any less boring, in comparison. Declare your independence by making your rote solo sex more like the magical sex of days gone by:
Be on top, always. Because of Paul, you now associate sex with doing most of the work. Why change that now that it’s just you? Sometimes your bed is tired from working all day on its screenplay, so grab the reins and ride ‘em, cowgirl! No amount of rolling over, side-nudging, or shoulder-pulling is going to make your bed fuck you for once, even though you can only come from missionary and he knows it.
Make the pillow smell like cigarettes. You hated dating a smoker, but now, you kind of miss it. Replicate that dank uncle smell by rubbing a Goodwill flannel all over your pillowcase before mounting ol’ Dildy. Getting a big noseful of nicotine while you rock yourself to as-quiet-as-possible-since-your-roommate’s-home climax will make your maintenance orgasms that much more nostalgic.
Push on your boobs. It doesn’t feel good. In fact, it hurts. But Paul did it. He did it every time. What was he doing? You miss it. Give the girls a firm, open-palmed push right when you’re about to come. That’ll set you back another seven minutes, but still, it’s a nice stroll down Memory Lane. You’ve been meaning to do regular breast self-exams, anyway.
Decide your wrist is tired. Nothing keeps pleasure fresh like never knowing when it’s going to end. Once in a while, abruptly stop fingering yourself, grab your hand like it’s injured, and tell yourself, “Sorry, I just need a sec.” Then, fall asleep. You’ll feel high-maintenance at best and sexually difficult at worst. Make it up to yourself by secretly masturbating in the shower in the morning like you used to.
Face the wall. A great way to still get your rocks off with someone from whom you’re growing painfully apart is to not even look at them. You and Paul knew that better than anyone. The next time you go to town on yourself, put your chin next to the corner of the pillow and look straight past it. You’ll never have to acknowledge that in the end, you’re really just here, alone with yourself. Bonus points if you take your Hitachi into the living room afterward and have it fall asleep on the futon under last week’s New Yorker.
Play The Ramones. Not even interesting lesser-known B-sides or anything; just the singles everyone knows from the radio. His faux “great taste in music” was one of his least flattering qualities, but you really miss that self-important little nerd. After scratching your vaginal walls beyond recognition, put on “I Wanna Be Sedated” and bamp-bamp-ba-bamp, ba-bamp-bamp-ba-bamp yourself to sleep.
If you do all the steps correctly, you should be able to make it a few more weeks before texting Paul again. Happy fapping!
