What Went Wrong This Week For … Masturbating Privately

A photograph of the writer.

SCAACHI KOUL was born and raised in Calgary, Alberta. Her writing has appeared in The New Yorker, BuzzFeed NewsThe HairpinThe Globe and Mail and J...

Welcome to Well, That Sucked, our weekly compendium of exactly what it sounds like. Thrown in this week’s garbage: having a sense of propriety, my god!

Before we start, do me a favour. It’ll take you, oh, four to six minutes to read this entire column. You might be at work while you’re reading it, or somewhere else public, but given the hour, it’s likely that you’re not at home. I’ve put a lot of work into this piece (not, like, a lot a lot, but enough to merit a victory nap, maybe), so promise me this one, tiny thing: tell me you won’t masturbate while you read this.

I beg of you. I am literally begging you to refrain from grinding your body on the pole in front of you on the bus, or the door handle leading to your office, or a long-abandoned newspaper box on the street. Please literally keep your pants on. I’m asking this of you, in large part, because I didn’t realize there was such a big threat that you might indeed haul off and start mauling yourself.

Earlier this week, a Swedish court ruled that it’s perfectly acceptable to masturbate in public, so long as you don’t direct it at anyone. The ruling came in a case brought against a 65-year-old man who dropped his shorts at a Stockholm beach and started masturbating near the water. He was charged with sexual assault.

The ruling is, of course, only in Sweden, which really doesn’t matter to everyone else because who gives a shit about Sweden, but it is a big win for the world’s pervert contingency. But, the important question is, is this something we were doing? Was there a big demand for public masturbation?

It is unclear exactly what it means to masturbate “at” someone versus just masturbating generally, toward humanity as a whole, but it seems like a difference without a distinction. If I’m on the subway and I start screaming—as is my wont—out into the ether, is that better than if I yell directly at someone right in their face, spittle flying into their eyes?

Well, yes, but why is it an either/or situation here?

Not that there’s anything particularly wrong with masturbating, but what’s unclear is why the man in this case felt the need to whip it out while gazing at the tide. This isn’t even something I want answered. I’m already ashamed I asked in the first place.

How did Sweden even get away with this? Last summer, we could barely agree on letting people drink in a public park.

Speaking of doing things in public that you should maybe keep to yourself, America was in fine form following the crowning of Miss America, who turned out to be a brown lady, nary a blond hair in sight. Unsurprisingly, the racists were all keyed up by an “Arab” winning. That, and a terrorist for a president? What is this country coming to? Let me grab my gun.

It was inevitable that there would be a few thousand people upset by her win, but the reaction to the reaction seemed to dwarf the initial outrage. Many outlets reported that people on Twitter were being the worst, but that’s a daily affair. Where was CNN when someone told me I would get AIDS when I made fun of one of the Teen Moms on Twitter?

The Internet is a garbage place full of garbage people, so it’s not surprising that there’s a lot of racism there, too. Visit the dank recesses of the web if you must, but do not let life slip away from you to the point that you end up bringing them home. Frankly, the only reason any of us should go there is to masturbate.

Because masturbation, like virulent racism, does not belong in public. These things are private matters, meant to take place in the dark, where no one can see you and your sinful ways, and you’re still a little worried your parents are going to walk in even though you haven’t lived at home in years. Don’t worry, pal—you’re all alone. Let’s show those Swedes how we do things in the civilized world.

Well, That Sucked appears every Friday.

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A photograph of the writer.

SCAACHI KOUL was born and raised in Calgary, Alberta. Her writing has appeared in The New Yorker, BuzzFeed NewsThe HairpinThe Globe and Mail and Jezebel. She is the author of One Day We’ll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter.