More embarrassing than being caught in the always unflattering 69 position with a partner is being caught diddling your skittle. There’s no one else to pin the guilt of pleasure on but yourself. Where does this shame in pleasing ourselves originate? It probably starts with some parents telling their kids that good little girls and boys don’t touch their pee-pees, even though it feels good. By the time we’re 13, we’ve internalized this shame to such an extent that we must speak in hushed tones and euphemisms about the evil that is masturbation.

Remember the first episode of Dawson’s Creek, when Joey asks Dawson how many times a week he “walks his dog?” Why does Dawson never ask Joey how often she teases her kitty? There must have been nights when Joey got herself off on the thought of Dawson and Pacey gettin’ it on in that little rowboat on the creek. But any verbal confession of this expression of sexuality would have sullied her appropriately feminine suburban-girl-next-door reputation.

There’s the sexist assumption that people with penises have the essential desire and know-how to jerk off, whereas women with vaginas come upon the pleasures of self-stimulation serendipitously—maybe through a respectable activity such as horseback riding. I don’t know about anyone else, but from the time I was a tot, I was curious about every part of my body and actively poked around in my vulval area. My sexuality was not lying passively dormant like Sleeping Beauty waiting to be awakened by some external trigger. Similar to the way it’s unacceptable for kids and sexuality to be mentioned in the same sentence, or for kids to talk about their own sexuality, people are uncomfortable with women relishing purely physical sexual pleasure, especially with their own bodies.

Even when people do talk about masturbation, it’s hard to escape the tendency to talk around it. The most socially acceptable way to talk about pleasuring oneself is to refer to the dirty deed in relation to some external stimulus: porn for men and an $80 bunny-shaped pastel pink “toy” for women. Don’t get me wrong—I have nothing against sex toys. I enjoy my vibrating electronics as much as the next person, and they are useful in further exploring what gives us pleasure, but they have also become a way in polite conversation to bring up the topic of masturbation, while avoiding the uncomfortable issue of engaging with the body, its pleasures, and its fluids. One can talk about the number of vibrational speeds on the Blueberry Buzz, but it would be more empowering to say how much you enjoy getting yourself off—not because this new toy gives you an excuse to—but because you like the pleasure your body can give you and are not afraid to do it for yourself.

What the world needs now is more open discussion about self-loving. Everyone knows that the key to spectacular sex is communication—whether we put it into practice or not is another story. But you can’t communicate to someone else about what pleases you without first knowing yourself—in the biblical sense. So spend some quality time rubbin’ your nubbins and feeling out all those nooks and crannies. Find out what makes you moan with delight, and then tell your roommate about the miracles of masturbation after she returns from her morning shower.