And Michael Masturbates

My task is to write a Very Short Story every Monday for the next 90 days. The story "And Michael Masturbates" is the first in the series.  The important thing about this 2017 summer series is that the stories are based on true situations I've been told about or have experienced first hand.  These writings also serve as a warm-up for me to move from a quick blog post to my more critical work a book I intend to complete by the end of June 2017.  I'm getting there!  So check back every Tuesday for a new story.  Enjoy.. 

And Michael Masturbates


"Masturbate, from the Latin “Masturbatus,” defines the experience people have as they touch or rub an object or their hands to their own sexual organs for sexual pleasure.  You can Google, “do all people masturbate?” and find answers like “98% of people masturbate,” or “almost all men do.”  It doesn’t really matter to know the stats, or what the medical or religious experts say for or against the practice.  I’m just here to try and wrap my head around the fact that – this guy named Michael, who is an Episcopalian minister, does it daily: Before day, midday and late day. Whenever he feels like it. In a house he lives in with others who are not his family.  It is in his own world, for his own pleasure or for stress relief, or for whatever reason that he must love on himself- with sound effects?! Without regard for the 23 year old female scholar living in a room near his. Evading anonymity he announces to newcomers in the house, “Sound travels, here!”  Is that a forewarning of things to come?

Imagine that you agreed to regular terms and conditions of roommate life knowing a minister was in the midst. Visions of peace and relative tranquility dance in your head; plus, lively and insightful conversation, and maybe even communion, on occasion.  But no! When the eldest person in the house writes sermons at the dining room table, drops the f-bomb during happy hour, spits out homophobic slurs toward his lesbian ex-wife, then lets out long, low slow wimpers while making knuckle babies in his room, 2-3 times a day, every day as all other roommates unintentionally listen in..  Welp.. how can you look him in the face, break bread with him, or appreciate his spiritual credibility when you’re down-right disgusted with his inability to be discreet?

The frustration and annoyance with this type of blatant disrespect overwhelms me.  Being told of this dilemma through the tears of a young woman for whom I wrote the poem mentioned here; This makes her a tourist in her own house, misguided by this grown-ass-man, who leads a congregation at a church down the road. She was forced to ask if he would refrain from being her alarm clock every morning and her lullaby every night.  And he said he is embarrassed, now.  As he should be! I applaud her courage and humility and forgiveness. The mother in me (tho she is not my child) will forever be disgusted by him. And I want to say to him,  not that self touching is baseless, I don't care if you do, I don't care if you don't. But must you do it when others are around? Since, you obviously cannot do it without making a sound?  Supper is a communal act.  Jerking off is not. Forget yourself. Disappear into someplace else. Be an animal in your own house.




 Need a ghostwriter? Any writer can tell your story, but I can tell it better!

| This original true story by Jackie D. Rockwell | All Rights Reserved © 2008-2017 |
Photo from dreamstime.com


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