Are you my mom? Geez.
How do you know how much I masturbate? Are you in here, watching me? No, seriously, say something. I can't see anymore.
You don't know me. I could be a dickless chimp sealed inside a glass box with a typewriter. I might only use dirty words in an effort to connect with people through laughter. For all you know, I've never touched my own wiener. I'm like Schrödinger's Masturbator. If you haven't seen me do it, do I even have a dick and balls?
That doesn't make sense. Why do my attempts at sounding deep always arrive at castration? Cows?
Anyway, I don't think I masturbate all that much. I do it approximately daily, and I rarely allow my life to suffer because of it. There's no bawling child that I'm unwilling to feed until I complete my morning pully. I do it in a healthy, whenever it strikes me kind of way.
Also, I'm pretty well-adjusted. I don't masturbate at people, for example. I do it in the privacy of my own home, or the privacy of someone else's home while they're at work, or the privacy of your darkened backseat, or while lying prostrate beneath your bed when your significant other goes out of town. Relax. It's like I wasn't there at all...
Short Answer: ...except for my seed.