I’ve masturbated in some pretty weird places. School. Work. My mom’s car. My dad’s car while he was driving. The bathroom at each one of my friend’s houses. When I was thirteen, I was watching a movie with my friend in his bedroom. Sitting atop his bed, I jerked off underneath a blanket. No stimulant. Nothing arousing about the situation. Just snuck in a spank sesh because why not?

I lie about masturbation. If you ask me at dinner, I’ll tell you I do it all the time. But if you ever call me out directly after the act, I’ll deny like I was falsely accused of murder.

Why was your bedroom door locked?

“I was, uhh, on the phone. Needed some privacy.”

Why’d you bring your computer into the bathroom?

“I’m on a roll with this essay. Couldn’t risk losing my train of thought.”

Why are you naked on the couch with porn on the TV? “Science project.”

Before moving on, let me be clear about something: I don’t like masturbating. I loathe it. I cringe when I think about it. It sucks.

It’s awkward. You’re always scared someone’s watching through a window or listening from another room. You roll your eyes at how bad the acting is in every video. You frustratingly sift through pornography, striving to find the perfect short film to reflect your naughty imagination. You become hasty and finish to something annoyingly subpar. And then comes The Autoeroticism Comedown, which refers to the first five minutes after masturbation.

It’s a consistent interval of depression; the worst five-minute period of everyone’s life, occurring at least once a day. Seven things happen during The Autoeroticism Comedown, none of which are good.

1. Your arousal levels drop from 100% to less than 0%, if that’s possible. You no longer have any interest in the porn you were watching, or girls/boys in general. You are laying in a puddle of semen and remorse.

2 . You check your phone. Katie texted you. She wants to hang out later. That’s great. You like Katie. But then you think of sex and you’re disgusted. You tell Katie you’re busy, only to regret it 30 minutes later.

3. You quickly close your PornHub tab, hoping to relieve your brain from what it’s just witnessed. Inevitably, your computer screen now displays a usually normal but now very creepy webpage, such as your sister’s Facebook profile picture or an email from your grandmother.

4. You think about someone walking in and asking, “Why did you just jerk off to your grandma’s Christmas e-vite?” You realize that answering, “No, I didn’t, I swear! It was just a video of this crazy high school orgy” doesn’t sound that much better.

5. You look to your left. The tissue box is empty. You recall that the tissue box was also empty yesterday. It didn’t refill itself.

6. You clean yourself with a dirty pair of boxers from the hamper. It’ll come off in the wash. Yeah, that’s it. It’ll come off in the wash.

7. You leave your room and enter the kitchen, where your roommates are conversing. They say nothing and you say nothing. But they know. And it’s killing you.

I hate masturbating because I feel terrible after I do it. But I still do it every day. Why? Why does anyone masturbate? Think about it. Even if you like it—even if you don’t experience The Autoeroticism Comedown—it’s a strangely normal activity. Are we really so horny that we need to jerk off every day?

Yes. We are that horny. And it’s socially inappropriate to display such feelings, so we do it either privately to ourselves or drunkenly to other drunk people. The confines of our society have caused us to tip-toe into our bedrooms, lock the door behind us, and vigorously stroke our penises until we feel some sort of relief.

Is that a bad thing? I don’t know. You decide. I can’t concentrate, anyway. I’m trying to find a viable POV video.