Show of Hands

I'm surrounded by men masturbating. Everywhere I look, there they are. At the movies, on tv, in the book store, on public transit. Though he may have just been digging for change. I think masturbation may be the new black.

Okay - I'm not literally surrounded. Because that would be weird. And unhygienic. But it seems that lately, men and their masturbatory habits have been popping up like so much morning wood. A recent magazine article by a guy confessing to the (sometimes) shameful images he uses to get there. The new movie "The Switch", which really owes Diane Sawyer an apology. A novel I just read featuring a male character who pleasures himself while watching the comely host of a fictional children's show. Not that farfetched; I once attended a party where the fairly well-known star of a popular program for pre-schoolers got her freak on in ways that were decidely NC-17.

All this self-servicing got me thinking. Guys are visual creatures. Women get this, at least by the time we're in our mid 30s, and most of us can deal with the fact that there'll always be something about Alyssa Milano. Or Princess Leia. Or Angela Lansbury. No judgement. But what about women? Sure, we like to look at attractive men but, for most of us, the mere visual isn't enough. It takes a bit more than a glossy photo or a promo for a " Who's the Boss?" marathon to bring the quiver. Think about it - know many women who've asked guys to send them naughty pictures? Okay, in my defence, I was half joking, and shirtless doesn't count. But I can't swing a digital camera without hitting a woman who's heard something along the lines of "Oh baby, come on, no one else will see it." And I think guys are missing out on the best part: the fantasy part of fantasizing. Hugh Jackman is hot, no doubt, but a pic of him isn't enough to push my button. There has to be context, and story, and imagined dialogue, at least for me.

Don't kid yourselves, guys; those long, descriptive passages in the "historical fiction" that your mom likes to read aren't just there to accurately set the scene in 1700s England. Men might need a simple screen capture to get off; women usually need a screenplay. And more often than not, the starring role is played by someone we already know intimately. I'm not saying men don't do this; they probably do, occasionally. I'd like to think they do . But they don't seem to need to. Women, however, are a bit more detail oriented. We replay previous encounters in our heads, sometimes exactly as they happened, sometimes embellishing dialogue, sometimes rewriting the ending. Sort of like Masturbation: the Director's Cut. At the risk of making someone blush, there's one real-life encounter I've actually developed sequels for; I think the blocking may need a bit of finessing, but the dialogue is pretty much perfect (not that it needed much work). And what was it about this particular assignation that made it worthy of its own franchise? I'm getting to that.

So why the difference? When it comes right down to it, why do women want even their fantasy partners to be familiar? Because women long to be seduced (even if we're by ourselves) and, at least for this woman, nothing is hotter, and thus more seductive, than knowing someone. I'm sure some men would agree, but I have a suspicion that, in most cases, the barista who handed them their latte this morning at Starbucks has an equal shot at a featured role in their next solo production. I, on the other hand, have actually felt bad if someone else hops on board my train of thought at a critical moment, like I'm two-timing someone who isn't even in the room with someone who's only in my head. Such a slut.

It makes sense. A random sampling of my friends (conducted by Absolut) would seem to indicate that, compared to men, not many women would tell you their first time with anyone was fantastic. Well, I might, but there were special circumstances. Jet lag being one of them. But it's never the best, not with someone you don't know in that way. That takes time, and learning, and paying attention. So why would it be any different in your fantasy life? Why would you want some new guy rattling around in your brain, trying to figure out how your bra works and wondering if you like having your ears kissed?

And that, at the end of the day (or on a Sunday afternoon), is why my little mini-series is on Me-TV more often than the Sham Wow guy is on late night cable. No image of some random guy, hot as he might be, can compare to the home movies in my head. Unlike some men I know. You guys know Princess Leia didn't really like wearing the slave girl costume, right? Weirdos.