Poor Onan

This is definitely old nyc news by now, but earlier this month a man was arrested for pleasuring himself on the subway in front of two young women. What took the story to the next newsworthy level was one of the girls using her camera phone to take a quick (hot) pic of him in the act. The photo was later used to identify and arrest the pervy.

Anyway, for some reason, the media was very free in pointing out that the masturbator’s bail was posted by his ex-wife, who co-owns a raw food restaurant in the East Village called Quintessence.

And unfortunately, this has impacted my life in a somewhat substantial way.

You see, nearly every morning on my way to work, I walk right by good ol’ Quintessence. And pretty much every time I do so, all I can think of is some creepy dude wanking off to two Asian girls in the subway. And I guess that’s pretty special, as very few places in the city have the ability to make me think of such an image so vividly and consistently.

But honestly, I kinda resent it: a single act of onanism, over a month ago, by some dude I don’t even know, having a daily effect on my life like that. I mean, do you know how hard it is to walk ten blocks with a raging boner?

Hey, here’s a FunFact: the word onanism comes from the biblical Onan, son of Judah. Rather than impregnate his dead brother’s wife and conceive a false heir, Onan chooses to "emit on the ground," so to speak. Unfortunately, God gets pissed and kills him.

Imagine that for a second. Not only are you murdered by your own God for a little masturbating. But also, your having rubbed one out that one time becomes the single deed for which you’re to be remembered for thousands of years to come. So much so, they even name the act after you. Yikes.

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