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It's Not Easy Being A Frotteur

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Mom Sleeps In Past Sunrise

WOBURN, MA―Noting that she had somehow managed to sleep through both the dawn chorus of birds and her neighborhood’s early morning garbage pickup, 53-year-old local mother Laura Maloney confirmed that she did not awaken Monday until after the sun had risen.

Area Dad Needs More Time With Museum Plaque

NEW YORK—Leaning in close to the paragraph of text as his family continued on to the museum’s other exhibits, area dad and Frick Collection visitor Phillip Schermeier, 58, reportedly needed more time with the plaque beside Rembrandt’s 1626 painting Palamedes In Front Of Agamemnon Thursday.

Friend From College Wasted No Time Becoming White-Collar Professional

CHARLOTTE, NC—Noting how his fellow 23-year-old now takes business trips and apparently has a company-issued cell phone, local barista Daniel MacKenzie reported Friday that his friend Eric Sanford—with whom MacKenzie attended the University of Virginia from 2011 to 2015—has wasted no time at all becoming a full-fledged white-collar professional.

Waitress Who Took Over At Table Just Doesn’t Have Same Spark As Richard

FREEPORT, ME—Sensing things wouldn’t be the same once the woman removed their empty potato skin basket without so much as a playful acknowledgment of how much they must have enjoyed the appetizer, patrons at Downeast Grill confirmed Wednesday night that their new waitress, Allie, just didn’t have the same spark Richard had.

Man Practices Haircut Request Before Heading To Barber

MINNEAPOLIS—Having scripted a set of lines he hoped to deliver with confidence and decisiveness, local 34-year-old Jason Clyne carefully rehearsed his haircut request several times Friday before heading to his local barbershop, sources confirmed.

Ronald McDonald Statue Bears Full Brunt Of Teenagers’ Mockery

CLEVELAND—Remaining stoically silent throughout the barrage of vicious insults, unsavory accusations, and various other indignities directed at it, a statue of Ronald McDonald seated on a bench outside the fast-food chain’s Clark Avenue location is said to have borne the full force of a group of teenagers’ mockery Thursday.

Woman Leaving Meeting Worried She Came Off As Too Competent

OXNARD, CA—Silently chastising herself for the way she behaved in front of her colleagues and supervisors, Cobalt Property Insurance sales associate Leah Manning, 36, was reportedly deeply worried Tuesday that she came off as too competent during the company’s weekly sales meeting.

Mom Has Stacked Dinner Party Roster

GOLDEN, CO—Their eyes widening in amazement as the 43-year-old rattled off the names of heavy hitter after heavy hitter, impressed members of the Dreeshen household confirmed Friday that the roster for their mom’s upcoming dinner party was absolutely stacked.
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It's Not Easy Being A Frotteur

I know what you're thinking: Surreptitiously rubbing one's crotch against nonconsenting women in crowded areas in order to achieve sexual arousal sounds like a walk in the park. But whenever I hear someone talking about how "simple" it must be to be a frotteur, I just have to laugh.

Believe it or not, inconspicuous genital friction is not all fun and games.

Contrary to popular belief, frottage takes hard work and dedication. Unlike building a deck or performing surgery, there are no instruction manuals on how to properly press your penis up against someone's hip on a packed train. These are things I had to teach myself. It takes a surprising amount of practice and a fair share of embarrassing failures in front of large groups of people to really get it right.

Most people assume that frottage is as simple as dropping by any cramped or confined space, strolling up to the first unsuspecting female you see, and doing your thing. No way, José. If it were that easy, everyone would be a frotteur.

In reality, you have to consider an almost endless number of variables before you can even think about enjoying the act of secretly stimulating yourself against a bystander's body: leverage, weight distribution, thickness of fabric, momentum—the list goes on. Paying attention to whether your target is carrying any foreign objects in her pockets is also paramount. Grinding your phallus against someone's keys is no fun at all, and barely arousing.

But frottage is not just a science; it's also something of an art. There are certain intangibles that cannot simply be "learned"—like the ability to cup one's hand in a concave semicircle and tap the buttocks of the woman in front of you in such a rhythm that it simulates the unintentional contact of a swinging duffel bag. Not just anyone can pull off that level of furtive sexual pleasure. You've either got it or you don't.

No one thinks about the hours and hours of preparation frottage takes, either. Every single day, I'm up at the crack of dawn to catch the crowded rush-hour train. I bet you're saying, "Hey, a lot of people do that." Well, you try maintaining an erection at 8 a.m. without your morning coffee. Good luck. You also have to contend with factors such as the reshuffling of the crowd at each subway stop, hip-length messenger bags, women who don't tolerate someone vigorously gyrating against them, and a whole bunch of angular geometry that I don't even want to get into. Let's just say it sort of takes all the mystique out of groping.

Now don't get me wrong, there are definitely parts of frottage that are truly rewarding. Like the feeling of your penis hardening as you thrust it into a nonconsenting woman's backside, and the part where you ejaculate in your pants. But there are downsides to frottage, too.

Just the other day I was on the train with this beautiful creature in front of me. Everything's going smoothly: I'm leaning in at a nice 80-degree angle, got a good rhythm going, when all of a sudden, the woman starts screaming and hollering. Talk about a mood-killer. Of course, they end up stopping the whole train, so now everyone is mad at me, and I've got two policemen asking me all these personal questions. What a hassle!

Sometimes I wonder why I keep doing this.

It's getting to the point where it's almost impossible to engage in a little frottage without some big commotion. Gone is the golden age of frottage, when the trains would rumble and shake along bumpy tracks, each jostle and jolt sending one's genitals deeper and deeper into an unwitting passenger's side. And women who did realize what was happening would just stand there quietly against the wall while strange men used their stiff, motionless bodies as a means of sexual gratification. Those were the days! Sadly, modern train cars are more spacious, the rides are smoother, and people have changed. It's almost like the world is trying to make it harder for us frotteurs.

My one hope in life is that people will someday see that frotteurs have it no easier than anyone else. The next time you're in a crowded subway and you feel something small and firm bumping against your lower back, it just might be one of us. So show a little respect and let the guy keep going until either he has finished up or it's your stop.

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