A guy in a gray T-shirt walks by today's Starbucks writing bench. The phrase on his shirt, "Masterbation is not a crime", makes it difficult to gauge his age. I'd have placed him older before I read his shirt. It's not that it's adolescent to masterbate. It could, however, be considered immature to find humour in public jokes about it . Unless of course he's serious? His shirt simply stating a fact. It is a fact as long as you keep it to yourself. We wear our shame too proudly to tolerate public displays of self-love. Love yourself in any form, just do it in private.

Could this be a new movement? An organized group tired of the guilt associated with the solo love dance? They felt shame and guilt in their youth. They were made to feel filthy and dirty for doing nothing more than what comes natural. They have long since lost and discarded the burden they once shouldered for this personal act. They've grown up and realized it wasn't about them playing with themselves. It was about everyone else and their baggage.

His gray shirt lets everyone know "they" had issues, not him and he understands that. He's making his own choices now. If he wants to wake up in the morning, shut off the obsessive alarm clock with a slap, roll over and spend a few minutes alone beside his wife then he'll damn well do it. No, this isn't about him. This is about the kids. This is retribution, his chance to say the things he couldn't as a child. His adult independence and confidence have empowered his lingering childhood emotions. He has some old messes to clean up, some doors to open. He has his own set of issues and he sure as hell isn't going to miss his chance to do some imposing of his own.

This movement, like all great movements, needs to communicate. Every great leader understands the strong role propaganda plays in getting the troops hardened for battle. It was that communication that allowed him to stumble onto this movement 2 years ago. Sitting around his friend's place glazing over a game on TV, he noticed a nervous energy about his buddy Jim. Everyone called him Jimmy and his most distinguishing feature wasn't a feature at all. Everyone knew Jimmy for his hat. A sad, beaten, worn out excuse for a hat that he never took off. You never saw Jimmy without his hat.

Jimmy was on edge this particular night. He was a kid on a car trip who needs to hit the bathroom but also knows his old man's going to flip when he asks. His dad warned him not to guzzle the whole bottle of juice because they weren't stopping for another 3 hours and if he has to go to the bathroon, he'll have to tie it in a knot. Tonight Jimmy wasn't taking a shot at his knot tying badge. He planned to spill the beans he was barely holding on to.

"Ever heard of MINAC?" Jimmy finally spills. Very few people have ever heard of MINAC and those who have usually wish they hadn't. Jimmy explained the basics of Masterbation Is Not A Crime. He got to spill more beans than he had planned. He had to go to the other room and get more. The beans he came back with were old newsletters published quarterly by the executive of MINAC.

Jimmy was surprised by the captive audience he'd found. He felt pride in spreading the MINAC seed to another. He was so impressed with the attention afforded him that he offered to lend out a few back issues, strictly on loan, for some home reading. Jimmy had never really contributed to the MINAC movement. He didn't write or edit the newsletter. He didn't sell any of their popular T-shirts. He wouldn't ever do these things for MINAC. He did, however, help out with this sole introduction. He felt the most pride right at this moment. Even later when he reads the first article written by his buddy, he still wouldn't feel more pride than right now. It was his coming out of sorts. It was the first time he had openly discussed masterbation with anyone. It was also his last. It felt great.

Jimmy's friend did go on to sell T-shirts. He fervently embraced the movement. It became his obsession for 12 years. He wrote, edited, and helped publish the quarterly. He joined the board and spent 2 years as it's president. He made an unsuccessful attempt to turn the quarterly into a monthly. He felt it would help with the apathy that set in with the membership like clock work, three weeks after a quarterly was published. For several years, Jimmy's friend was the MINAC movement.

Jimmy moved on himself. He stopped subscribing to the quarterly that yearned to be a monthly. You can only read a grown man's telling of his first experience with himself so many times. Jimmy never told his story to anyone little on to actually write it down and sign his name to it. His friend did. It was the first piece he published in the quarterly. He also said it out loud, exposing himself to anyone who didn't cover their eyes or walk away. He spoke and gave talks to adults and kids, to adults with their kids.

Most of his speaking engagements occurred on the fringes of the education system. Small private schools run by energetic couples massively overcompensating for that one disturbing night when their 6 year old boy wandered into their bedroom. He couldn't sleep, was thirsty, and thought his parents could help. He tiptoed into their bedroom. He really only wanted to talk to mom. Dad was never much help and it was best not to wake him. Once inside their bedroom he stopped worrying about waking anyone up. Apparently his folks were having trouble sleeping as well. He couldn't see them, or their faces, but he could hear them goofing around under the sheets, playfighting judging by the blur of activity and sounds. Sounds like dad has the upper hand. This'll be fun. They think I'm sleeping. I'll sneak to the edge of the bed and slip under to surprise them both. They'll be so surprised.

In the end all three were quite taken aback by the event. The phrase "threesome" took on an unfortunate role in the humour of the family's closest friends and the folks became huge fans of the MINAC movement. It was a nice way for them to talk about the threesome without ever having to talk about it.

Jimmy never talked about it. If Jimmy did speak about his first sexual encounter he would speak of it's beauty. It was something very special to him now. More so than at the time. He had no clue what was even happening. Going to sleep before everyone else in his family, being the youngest, he found himself wide awake. It had rained all day so he'd been cooped up indoors. He'd kept himself busy with video games and television but the lack of physical exercise was keeping him from sleep now. He lied in his dark room alone with the conversations he fashioned in his head. He thought about his second week of school which started tomorrow. He thought about the sports he'd get to play. He pictured recess with his friends and had conversations in his head with them. Talks that would never happen. Through it all, someone kept showing up unexpectedly. She lived around the corner from his house. Her name was Julie. She was a 'friend of the family' which is what grown-ups call people that you have no choice but to be friends with since they were friends with their parents.

Julie was 3 years older than Jimmy. You can never be certain about anyones ages back then, other people are grouped into 3 bins. Your age, older and younger. You hang out with the kids your age, you get beat up by, and don't trust the older ones, and you beat up and take advantage of the younger ones. Simple rules.

Julie drifted in and out of Jimmy's thoughts that night. There was no intent on Jimmy's behalf, she just somehow kept showing up. She showed up to watch his school soccer game even though she'd shown no interest in soccer before. She was there at recess and she even made an appearance in his gym class. Jimmy felt alive this particular night as he lay, not sleeping but living the life he'd never live. He felt an exciting energy in his legs and body. A building sensation chasing up and down his limbs.

Making the connection between the electricity and Julie he began to focus on her more. He turned and talked to her. She talked back. She talked to him less like a kid than usual. They could almost pass for being the same age. They were in her basement. They were alive.

Julie lived in her parent's basement, had her bedroom there. Jimmy and Julie sat on the huge stained L-shaped couch and watched television. The tv was on but they focussed on each other. As they talked, Jimmy's electricity continued to heighten. His legs physically shaking now, not that he noticed, he was focussed on Julie. That night Julie talked to Jimmy like the man he'd never be. She said things to him he'd never hear said.

It ended with a realization. Jimmy had a slight bed wetting problem. He would often slip into his dreams so deeply that when he went to the bathroom in his dream he would open the physical gates and pee his bed. This was the first time he'd wet his bed while awake. This was the first time it was accompanied by such incredible feelings. What the hell was that? he thought to himself as he began the routine of cleaning up. He became suspicious as he cleaned up. He thought back to what he'd eaten that day. "Did I eat the whole bag of gummy bears" he wondered.