When I began my career in masturbation excellence – trust me, I know, I should’ve won all sorts of awards and stuff – I utilized my right hand. This makes complete sense. In the vernacular of the sporting world, I am a right-hander. I throw right. I shoot right. I high-five after throwing and/or shooting with my right. So it only makes sense I’d handle my precious baby-making appendage, the one thing that can lead to a whole new generation of Paulas heirs, with the hand I have most experience with. But then, inexplicably, I switched. After roughly five years of right-handed masturbation technique, I inexplicably became a left-hander. This was not on purpose. I didn’t, one day out of the blue, just decide to switch jerking-off hands. This wasn’t me going through some weird self-experimentation phase, the less dangerous cousin to autoerotic asphyxiation. This wasn’t an attempt to try to my hand (so to speak) at the urban-legend-popular sex position “The Stranger” – wherein the man sits on his weak hand until it’s numb in order to give his masturbation session the sensation of someone else taking the reigns, i.e. giving/getting yourself a handjob – but then I liked it so much that I just continued that way for good. In fact, I didn’t even notice I changed.
For years, my auto-reply whenever someone asked what hand I jerked off with – an all-too-common question if you hang around the men, ever – was always “with my right hand.” That was the way that made sense. It wasn’t even a question worth thinking about. Until one day, when I actually took a brief moment to mime out my masturbatorial action before replying. Like the main characters at the end of The Sixth Sense, The Usual Suspects, The Illusionist, or any of those increasingly shitty “it’s all been faked” movie ending montages, I realized that my entire view of the world wasn’t what it seemed. “My, God!”, I thought. “I’m a left-hand jerker!” How can something like this be? How can I subconsciously make a decision to switch something so vital as jerk-off hands? As Jeff Goldblum’s character in Jurassic Park says when told about dinosaurs not being able to reproduce because they’re all males: “Life finds a way.” And so do masturbators. You see, right around the Great Hand Switcheroo, there was a new variable introduced into the masturbatorial equation: the Internet.
With the advance of Internet porn – and, more specifically, the viewing of Internet porn with the assistance of a computer mouse, a device that could only be controlled accurately with my right hand – my body was forced to choose from the following options: Option 1: Continue jerking off with right hand, forgoing the aid of Internet porn as a device in the masturbation arena. Option 2: Navigate the massive world of Internet porn by sacrificing right hand to be used in mouse-control and learn to masturbate with left. Without my brain even having a chance to weight the pros and cons of the two options, the body chose the second. Without a single thought, I became a left-hander. Of which I remain to this very day. I adapted. I evolved. If a story like this isn’t enough to convince those “intelligent design” people out there that Darwin was correct in his thesis, this story of an organism learning to change automatically, to adapt to its new environment effortlessly, then, frankly, I don’t know what will.
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