I am sure you have heard the expression, “If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” Well, this has never been truer than in the case of the handjob.That’s right, the handjob. Its recent revival in spite of naysayers is quickly making it a thing of legend. I am sure you have read or heard stories regarding its existence. Some people enjoy it, most people dislike it. I hate it.

I am not one of those guys who thinks it’s fun or much of an accomplishment for some girl to grab my taser and attempt to mug it. Most of you have probably experienced the hammering of wrapped fingers around a sensitive area. Almost all of us have. It’s like a right of passage in middle school. And that is exactly the point, it belongs in the analogs of early adolescence, where experimenting is everything, where tackling new tasks (like removing a bra while sucking face) is acceptable, where ignorance and inexperience is bliss. The handjob is a crude reminder of just how uncomfortable some encounters with the other gender can truly be.

Some of you readers may have been lucky enough to experience the hand technique of a Pro: someone who has little difficulty accomplishing the primary objective. The majority of these ladies can only be found at via the internet or hanging out by the docks, but a few are walking the streets with the rest of us. They come in all shapes and sizes. But be warned, just about every woman who has mastered the handjob should come with a warning label from the surgeon general. Chicks with that much experience are usually unacceptable at public events and social gatherings.

But, for the most part, all self respecting guys in their twenties hate the handjob.

That is why I am making a quiet push for a handjob age limit. Women over the age of 18 should no longer be allowed to store this technique in their arsenal. The age limit is rather fitting, as high school and innocence comes to an end, so should this dark-aged maneuver. College brings about a new sense of self assurance. Women should no longer be able to lean on their one handed crutch.

Think of the times you were in this position in college:

Leave the bar. Hop in a cab with some girl you just pumped 40 bucks worth of drinks (hopefully drinks) into. The two of you have a competition to see who can lick more mouth than the other. You’re in the backseat thinking, “done deal.” Back to your place and into your room, nothing can stop you now. Into the bed you both go. Clothing becomes optional.

And then it happens. She has a hold of you and won’t let go.

So the assault commences. A journey between hot and cold. Light touch versus death grip. Speed varying from 100 yard dash to marathon. You smell burnt flesh even before it’s a reality. Lubrication and the sudden touch of surgeon won’t reverse this moment. You know this is it, the end of the road, as far as she’ll go.

This all reverts back to ignorance and inexperience. Once you’ve sipped Dom Perignon going back to Boone’s Farm doesn’t quite cut it. Same thing here. Once you’ve outgrown this archaic maneuver, why go back and celebrate its existence?

It’s like learning to drive. When you first get your license you’re willing to get behind the wheel for no apparent reason, sometimes turning down streets you’ve never noticed before just for the hell of it. I doubt that’s the case now. Probably the opposite.

Today, all you want is the destination. That destination being you and your female friend naked in some weird twister position. And that certainly isn’t going to end up being the case with her fully clothed and you having your third hand shook by the greeting committee. I for one would rather receive an aggressive head scratch than something that takes her twenty minutes and me four.

Here are some tips for you, the reader.

If you are put in a compromising handjob position, I suggest using the “rollover technique” to distance yourself from the woman or women you are with.

Or, regardless of the occasion, set a time limit of 30 seconds to 1 minute (excruciatingly long, but necessary to make sure this isn’t some start up maneuver she read in Cosmo last month) before pulling the, “This isn’t going to work for me” line.

The day after an attempted handy also involves some tactfulness on your part. Be sure to wake up early the next morning. Do not make physical contact. No use in giving mouth to mouth to a dead fish. Remember to make a mental note that this chick should not be hit on in the future, should you ever see the tug-o-war champ again. (Two Exceptions: 1. You’re thoroughly blacked out, or 2. You have verbal confirmation from a friend that some dude trashed her psyche and now she’s down for just about anything.)

Aside from following these guidelines, all we can ask of each other is to spread the word and take action against the handjob. The sooner you and your friends veto the handjob, the better, for all of us.

Of course, guys who spend all their time trying to come up with witty one-liners for internet articles (Maske) and unemployed couch dwellers (Booth) should be prepared (and thankful) to accept handjobs well into their thirties.

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