"Well I don't really see the point of doing it. Why would I do it when I could get a guy to do it for me?" The blonde shouts to me over the loud music, and shrugs her shoulders as if to say that there is obviously no point in discussing this further. "Yeah," her friend nods and shouts in agreement, "what's the point?"

I clutch my hand to my chest and feign chocking on my beer. (It's hack and over-dramatic, but the level of my shock is such that a blank stare will not do). This is my second "˜hack beer choke' of the evening. The first occurred about thirty seconds ago, after the blonde told me she's never masturbated and her friend added on a "Yeah, me neither."

Both girls are well past the age of eleven, the time when girls stay home from school pretending to be sick in order to learn "˜more important things.' (Was I the only one?) Both girls are dressed to go out in, tight jeans and bedazzled tops. Both girls are drinking PBR. And both girls have NEVER MASTURBATED.

I watch them sip their beers and dance provocatively, successfully gaining the attention of the predominately male crowd. A hipster from across the room checks out the blonde. She returns his gaze with a coy smile and energetic hip shake. I marvel at what would happen if they were to hook up.

Hipster: Is that good? You like that?
Blonde: Yeah" I think.
Hipster: Right there? Yeah, you like that?
Blonde: Yeah" I think.

I turn to my friend Mark,"Mark! Those girls have never masturbated!!"
"Oh my god!" he says mockingly.
"This is a serious matter." I exclaim, and head towards the dancing girls who are now sipping there beers, unaware that their lives are about to change forever.

"What's up girls?" I shout nonchalantly, uncertain still about my plan of attack. Should I lecture them? Should I whip out a flip chart with diagrams? Should I bust out my laptop and do a full PowerPoint presentation?

I'm an awful artist and an average PowerPoint user, so I decide to go with the lecture. I start out with a casual ice breaker.

"You guys having fun tonight?"
"Yeah!" they responded simultaneously, cute smiles plastered across their innocent faces.
I suddenly feel as if I'm being duped. These girls are so nice and easy going. How is it possible that they've never masturbated? If I was over twenty one years old and had never gotten myself off, I would not be nice and easy going. I would be such an unhappy bitch. My face would be scrunched up in a permanent scowl, and all of my conversations would go something like this:

"Hey Mindy, How are you?"
"How the fuck do you think I am?! I've never masturbated! Fuck you!!"

I would be just like those women who work at the make-up counters at department stores. The ones who wear too much hair spray and who always look pissed off. The ones who yell at me when I come in bare faced and do my make-up for the night using all the samples they have out.

Department store girl who's never masturbated: Need any help?
Me: Nope.
DPSWNM: Would you like to purchase that shade? Or any of the other make-up that (she makes quote marks in the air with her manicured hands that have never touched her clitoris) "˜you're sampling?' "

No! I won't let these young, innocent girls become unhappy, department store, make-up bitches. I have to save them! So, without warning or introduction I shout over the music.

"You need to masturbate!"

The guys sitting at the table behind us all look up. The girls giggle.

"Seriously girls, I'm serious. You just . . .you HAVE to, it's . . .important!"

Okay, so I'm a little drunk and not very articulate, but I go on.

"You're never going to be truly satisfied by a man unless you know your own body."

The blonde argues back. "I know my own body, I just don't feel the need to do it myself. I don't like the idea of it. Just me. It feels -"
"Kinda gross." the other girl chimes in.

Kinda gross? Kinda gross?! Suddenly I feel like a kid in an "˜I've never touched myself' candy store. I have so much I want to say, so much I want to share, I'm overwhelmed, and so I just start shouting and rambling. I talk about different kinds of orgasms in general. Then I talk about the ones you give yourself vs. the ones you get from others. I talk about technique vs. pace, strength vs. style, clit vs. g, and I'm not an expert by any means, I still have a lot to learn, but I definitely know that "No matter how good the guy is, he can never feel what you're feeling. Only YOU know what you like because only YOU know how it feels, and don't you think that's something worth figuring out for yourself? And don't you think it's great not to always have to rely on someone else to get you off? Right? Yes? Girls? Are you with me?!"

"Yeah. Yeah," the blonde says, totally in my corner. The brunette still looks a little grossed out. I ramble on.

"And once you've done it yourself you'll be able to help the guy out. You don't have to tell him exactly what to do, but even something subtle like shifting your body a little to get to that spot that you've already found by yourself is helpful. You know?"

"Uh huh," They both say; their eyes lighting up in excitement and fear.

"Listen, it's your life. I'm not saying it's wrong if you don't want to do it. But I really think you should to try it. Just…get over the fact that it's just you, and just…try it."

Now I'm sure anyone who's ever tried to convince two strangers to touch themselves at a crowded bar knows what happened next: awkward silence. Just when I'm about to walk back to Mark feeling silly and defeated, I hear victory.

"Okay, I'll try it."
"Yeah. Me too. I'll try it."

I start jumping up and down the way I used to when I was fifteen and a junior varsity cheerleader. Then, remembering I'm not wearing my cheer bra, stop jumping.
"Awesome," I shout with a huge smile on my face, "and don't just do it once."
"Okay." They shout back.
"And e-mail me and let me know how it goes!" I give them my card. They both look at one another and then look back at me as if I've suddenly morphed into a fifty year old man who is licking his lips and saying, "So, you girls got a younger sister?" Perhaps asking for an e-mail update took things too far.
They reluctantly put my cards away and more awkward, post masturbation lecture silence follows. I break the silence with "Okay, awesome!" and then head back to Mark.

He spots me coming towards him and I give him a big thumbs up.
"Wow," he shouts, "you just convinced two girls to go home and masturbate!"

There are so very few, absolutely perfect times to high five at a trendy bar. This was one of them.

*Cheer Bra: two sports bras worn at once

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