Opinion: We Should All Be Giving More Handjobs

Handjobs, or “the French handshake” as I like to call them, get a pretty bad rap, like it’s some kind of juvenile act reserved for horny yet prudish teens behind the bleachers at Homecoming. I call BS, and I’m here to stand up for the knuckle shuffle because I love them — here’s why:

I don’t have to get naked.

 Okay, yeah, I love being naked, but sometimes doing sex stuff while still wearing my clothes is pretty convenient — especially if I’m wearing a dress and I just finished an entire Chipotle burrito for lunch. Sure, I’m horny, but I’m not trying to show off that bloat. Plus, let’s be real — the whole not being naked thing also adds to the discretion of the handie, which is truly one of my favorite selling points.

They’re the definition of spontaneous hotness.

 This probably doesn’t sound very good to say, but I’m kind of a handjob pro. Places I’ve given my boyfriend at least a half of a handjob and haven’t been caught include his parents’ cottage dock, parking lot outside my work, a Greyhound bus to Detroit… you get the idea. You can’t have full-on sex just anywhere, but handjobs are a bit more discrete and therefore a bit more portable.

It’s less work than a BJ.

 Look, I love giving oral sex, I do, but man, if that ain’t some hard work when your heart isn’t all the way in it (or four tequila shots aren’t all the way in you). Anyone who’s given a great oral knows the next-day feeling of a raw inner lip as a result of responsibly protecting his penis skin from your cheese grater teeth. With a handjob, at most you’re looking at mild wrist discomfort, but really that’s on you for not switching up the style, sister. He thinks you’re getting creative, but really you’re strategically avoiding giving yourself carpel tunnel.

You can make it into a game.

Not gonna lie, I definitely do this. It’s like playing one-sided tug of war. I think we all love the ego boost that comes along with manually getting someone off, like, “Yeah, I just did that crap! Feel my mighty sexual prowess! You’re no match for these mitts!” But it’s even more fun when you try to outdo your own personal bests. Mine? 32 seconds in the handicap bathroom of the university library. Beat THAT!

There’s a feeling of power that comes with gripping somebody’s manhood.

I like to give his junk a slightly uncomfortable squeeze — think the blood pressure machine at the drugstore —  just to remind him who’s really in charge. That in itself makes up for the imbalance in genital stimulation that comes with giving a handjob. But hey, I get off on power, what can I say?

There’s zero risk of pregnancy.

 And you don’t have to swallow those mouth babies! Honestly, it’s a win all around. Isn’t it easier to wash your hands than listen to a player explain why condoms “ruin the feeling” for him?

It’s a great way to “try before you buy.” 

You never know what you’re getting penis-wise. Let’s face it — unless he sends you a sext of his junk, you don’t know if you’re gonna get an eggplant or a baby corn. Or a completely satisfying zucchini, which is perfectly fine for most girls, we swear. Anyway, let’s say you’re feeling a dude, you start making out and you know you have the full intention of boning this guy (we always know). Giving a handjob is like taking a car out for a test drive. There’s nothing worse than getting it on and wondering what your life could’ve been had you only known beforehand that this dude has a whack penis.

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