I recently spent some time with a guy who was into edging. For those unaware, edging is the term used when describing the act in which, according to Urban Dictionary, is: “approaching the edge of sexual orgasm and withdrawing, usually several times, before finally achieving orgasm. Meant to intensify orgasm, and for men, volume of ejaculate and force of ejaculation.”
Edging is a practice that can be done solo or with a (or multiple) partner(s). We’ve all done this or experienced this at some point, even if it wasn’t made clear or done purposefully. Sometimes, a guy will do this because he doesn’t want to blow his load too quickly because he’s embarrassed about the fact that he’s a premature ejaculating head case. I don’t think it happens as often where a woman edges (especially with a partner), because, shit, if she can come at all, then let it happen and don’t try to hold it in because you never know when that is going to occur again. The elusive art of the female orgasm is not something to try to wrangle like you’re a lion tamer at a going-out-of-business circus. They invented an entire sex toy industry based around the idea that men weren’t doing the job right. At the same time, if a woman is able to edge successfully, kudos to all involved and pop some bubbly for me.
Yes, I’ve been involved with edging before, but compared to my recent experience, I think all edgees have been amateur in practice at best. This guy made it clear from the beginning: this is what I’m into, either hop on or get off. (Maybe both…get it? Sexual train jokes). As it goes, he also made clear his preferences (Top), which I usually don’t go into with anyone (because nunyafuckinbiz) but for the sake of this story, it is important to know that he is the penetrator, not penetratee. I appreciate his up-front way of letting me know in advance of his particular styles, because not knowing someone is planning an extra-inning session when you’re looking for a couple of at bats at best can lead to some missed communication and a totally wasted time for both teams (sexual sports jokes).
He even bragged about having an edging session through all of Interstellar (even the credits). At first it seemed like an odd choice, but then looking at the cast, Matthew McConaughey, Wes Bentley, Matt Damon, David Oyelowo, Casey Affleck, Topher Grace, and if you’re into older guys, Michael Caine and John Lithgow, it became clear why that movie is a perfect choice. Each scene has a different kind of guy for whatever you’re into. Plus there’s Anne Hathaway, so when you need to turn the session into an anger-fuck, her and her stupid haircut are there too. If we’re talking cinematic films to edge to, I’d rather do Inception, with the cast of Leo, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Tom Hardy, Cillian Murphy. Plus, depending what you’re into, you’ve got Ken Watanabe (Asian dudes), Michael Caine (old dudes), Tom Berenger (daddy issues) and of course, the lovely Marion Cotillard (not in old lady makeup) and Ellen Page as the LGBT rep for the dream world.
For this night’s particular event, my guy suggested putting on The Martian: Matt Damon, Donald Glover, Michael Pena, Sean Bean, Sebastian Stan, Chiwetel Ejiofor. Starting to understand a little bit more of what he was into (Space, Damon) but not wanting to give him full control of the night, I turned down his request and insisted we do music. It was also at this point that I began referring to him during my internal monologue as Space Damon.
In the long term, suggesting music was a mistake, because at least with a movie, there is a set run time that you can use as a clock to time out when your session is potentially coming to an end. With music, time becomes nothing more than a few minute bursts that blend into a marathon of unknown tracks.
As Space Damon and I shared time, I began to let my mind wander. This can happen sometimes during longer sessions, unless both partners are completely involved. S.D. hadn’t been exaggerating at his love for edging. There was a lot of starting and stopping in all ways, and my mind started going through when he discovered that this was his thing, and if it’s a selfish sort of act, or if it stopped being selfish when he told me the plan and I agreed. I also started thinking of the term edging and how much what Space Damon was doing related very much to the Linkin Park song One Step Closer.
Everything you say to me
Takes me one step closer to the edge
And I’m about to break
I need a little room to breathe
‘Casue I’m one step closer to the edge
And I’m about to break
Wow, I know. I started going down the rabbit hole of my relationship with Linkin Park and middle school. They exploded onto the scene with Hybrid Theory and every teenage boy lost his collective shit. Linkin Park had a little bit of music for everyone in 2000: hard rock, rapping, and a DJ. There was always one song on their albums where they let Mr. Hahn do whatever he wanted, and that song was either the one you always listened to, or always skipped.
I grew up in a very small house with a lot of people under one roof. The four siblings shared two rooms, switching around based on who was getting along and who was the outcast. There was never any privacy, except for the bathroom. Around the same time as Hybrid Theory, I started understanding the need to having time alone, both for mental and masturbatory needs. The shower became my safe haven for this. I’d put on that CD and blast it, hiding under sonic cover of Chester Bennington’s scream-singing as I jerked off. Looking back, none of this seems like an enjoyable experience, but when you’re in middle school and don’t know anything else, you make due. I always put on the same album (it was one of two that I owned and didn’t have to share with anyone else) and I had my schedule timed pretty well that I’d always finish around song #5, Crawling. It only made sense to belt these lyrics after completion, letting the water drip off me as I stared down at the confusing mess we call puberty.
There’s something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
This lack of self control I fear is never ending
I can’t seem
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence I’m convinced that there’s just too much pressure to take)
I’ve felt this way before
Crawling in my skin
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
Now it all makes sense: this song was my gay anthem. Without knowing it, I was externally acting out my internal feelings before I fully understood them: furiously masturbating to my gay anthem under the covers of a shower and a locked bathroom door, feeling rushed, alone, horny, and because of Chester’s singing style, rage.
As Space Damon continued his edge-fest, I became struck with how pivotal the Linkin Park years were to my life. Now, I’m reminded of their existence once every few years as the newest Transformer movie comes to an end and their song plays over the credits.
I started thinking about life in general, and how I’d gotten to this moment with Space Damon. Maybe life was really just one long edging session. Just when you think everything is about to happen, life pulls back and makes you start all over again. It’s a constant uphill battle to the one thing you want more than anything else, and maybe, eventually, you’ll get there. The only difference is that, with edging, it is in your control to finish, and in life, not so much.
But maybe not. Maybe we tell ourselves we’re not in control of our lives because it’s easier than doing the things we know we have to do in order to get shit done. Each day, we scroll past inspirational pictures and articles on the internet with people explaining and encouraging you to grasp a hold of your own life. Articles suggest we are in control of our own lives, you just have to do it. Go for it. Fucking finish the thing you started, even if it makes you uncomfortable.
In these moments with Space Damon, I inspired myself to get a hold of my life and control my own destiny. I did the only thing I knew I could do, so I stuck a finger in his ass and he immediately came. Edging session over, and Space Damon was swirling in content and discontent.
Maybe that’s what life really is: an edging session that ends with you getting fucked in the ass. Sometimes it’s a good thing, sometimes it’s not.
Either way, now I understand why after all these years, I continue to get randomly hard whenever I hear Linkin Park.