I had somewhat of a "dark night of the soul" moment last night. Not that long after I posted this :
I realized last night when I was trying to put myself to sleep post-fap with about 5 hours due until I had to get up for work... that I might not like who I've become due to porn, near-obsession with nude models and celebrities, and the amassing of visual stimulus for masturbation. I struggled to get to sleep as it dawned on me just how bad things have become over the years.
Since I was young I watched porn, but things weren't always this bad. I had a four year relationship with an actual woman, with actual sex, living together, talking about the future and everything. It's been five years since we split up, but it might as well be fifty. Since her, my physical contact with women has almost entirely been through escorts. My interest in porn got out of control and when I had a hiatus from working things got worse - I signed up here to talk to other people about porn. I've spent stupid amounts of money on clips, site memberships, DVDs, calls and cam sessions. Anything for my next fix. I bought a 1 TB portable drive because I didn't want my hard drive getting full. That should have been a clue - not only was I paying for porn, but also for more storage for my burgeoning porn collection. I never noticed how often I don't get a sensible night's sleep because I want to stay up watching "babe channels" or chatting to other masturbators, but it's very often.
So, last Friday a girl pulled me. I've never been any good with women, not really. All the women I ever got anywhere with had to make the first move on me. This one started a conversation with me, initiated the first kiss, invited me back to hers, and basically did all the work. When I said I should go home, she said I could stay. After I started sleeping on the sofa, she said I could come to bed. I wasn't used to it, even at 32 I've never really had much physical contact with women I barely know unless I'm paying them. There was also lots of chatting, and I thought we got on really well. She seemed shy, despite having seemed obviously keen to get me back in the first place... almost like she wanted it to happen, but she wasn't really that kind of person. Which was fine, neither am I. Several times through waking up in the morning, through the mists of hangover, I asked if I should go, and she kept saying I didn't have to if I didn't want to. Eventually about 1.30 in the afternoon, I needed to go. Her housemates were up and about and I felt horribly awkward and needed to recover some belongings from their living room. I massively panicked and I'd given her my number the night before on paper (before she persuaded me to stay) but she didn't know where it was so she gave me her phone to punch it into - I then told her "Don't one-ring me now though, my battery is dead" which was true, and then I left. And I've spent this week realizing what a dick I was for not getting her number. In my hungover panic attack, I left her my number because I wanted to leave the ball in her court, and didn't want to ask for her number in case she didn't really want to give it me.
So I spent this week thinking.... will she text me (she hasn't yet)? Did I imagine that even through the shy quirkiness that she seemed genuinely interested in me, or was I actually just a drunken mistake? What if she's as shy as I am, and just can't bring herself to text me? Maybe she's as shit at "the game" as I am and doesn't want to text for fear of seeming too eager/easy? Should I pop a note through her letterbox (I know the area, I remember where she lives) as some of the girls at work suggest is "romantic" but I think is too much like being a stalker? I've text my friends who know better about this type of thing. Thankfully not many have give me the truth I'm trying not to face up to : maybe I'm just reading too much into a casual fumble, and I have an unfortunate habit of falling very quickly for any pretty girl that pays me any attention.
So, what has one to do with the other? As I lay there post-wank last night, I realized most people figure this kind of crap out in their teens and early 20s, and I never did. I was ALWAYS that guy that stays in masturbating instead of getting out there, meeting girls, learning how to read signs and learning to NOT try and date every girl that puts her tongue in my mouth. And now, I waste too many evenings on saving more pics than I'll ever need. Creative things I could be doing (and I have projects on the go) are neglected because there are naked girls to look at. When people ask "what did you do last night?" I just say "Nothing" because it's better than the truth. I don't like who I am. It's time to change that. I've been going back to the gym this week, but it's the extra wasted downtime that needs fixing. How much better would I do at work if I was sleeping properly instead of staying up late to toss off? How much keener would I be (at least unconsciously) to go out and meet someone to become a proper, regular sexual partner, if I didn't have so much porn to fall back on?
At the moment, I'm right on the edge of a big call. I'm thinking of dumping my pics collection, maybe purging the drive of scenes too. Fair enough, the DVDs will stay. A man has urges, so having Belladonna a/k/a Filthy Whore to hand might be necessary for when it gets too much. But porn has become a hobby, a pastime, and I worry its become a waste of my time to the detriment of actually having a life. It defines a lot of who I am when I'm not working, and that fact has only just become apparent to me. Most guys watch porn when they need to, but for most of them I imagine that amounts to the 2 minutes of Spankwire or equivalent that they need to fulfill their need, probably no more time than they'd take over taking a piss. What I do isn't normal, and it isn't healthy.
I've seen the argument and I've made the argument over the years that a porn habit is not a problem if nobody's getting hurt. Well, I think my habit is hurting someone. It's hurting me. There's a very real possibility my porn consumption, very shortly, will become limited to approving attachments in the mod capacity.
I don't know why I felt like posting this here ; "cool story bro" is probably on its way. But I had to get it off my chest how I feel and what I'm doing, and it's not like I can talk to any of my real life friends about it. So, there it is. I think I'm broken, and I'd like to be fixed. There's a big world out there, and I won't see much of it jerking off at my laptop night after night.
Every second I type, I wish I was masturbating instead.
I realized last night when I was trying to put myself to sleep post-fap with about 5 hours due until I had to get up for work... that I might not like who I've become due to porn, near-obsession with nude models and celebrities, and the amassing of visual stimulus for masturbation. I struggled to get to sleep as it dawned on me just how bad things have become over the years.
Since I was young I watched porn, but things weren't always this bad. I had a four year relationship with an actual woman, with actual sex, living together, talking about the future and everything. It's been five years since we split up, but it might as well be fifty. Since her, my physical contact with women has almost entirely been through escorts. My interest in porn got out of control and when I had a hiatus from working things got worse - I signed up here to talk to other people about porn. I've spent stupid amounts of money on clips, site memberships, DVDs, calls and cam sessions. Anything for my next fix. I bought a 1 TB portable drive because I didn't want my hard drive getting full. That should have been a clue - not only was I paying for porn, but also for more storage for my burgeoning porn collection. I never noticed how often I don't get a sensible night's sleep because I want to stay up watching "babe channels" or chatting to other masturbators, but it's very often.
So, last Friday a girl pulled me. I've never been any good with women, not really. All the women I ever got anywhere with had to make the first move on me. This one started a conversation with me, initiated the first kiss, invited me back to hers, and basically did all the work. When I said I should go home, she said I could stay. After I started sleeping on the sofa, she said I could come to bed. I wasn't used to it, even at 32 I've never really had much physical contact with women I barely know unless I'm paying them. There was also lots of chatting, and I thought we got on really well. She seemed shy, despite having seemed obviously keen to get me back in the first place... almost like she wanted it to happen, but she wasn't really that kind of person. Which was fine, neither am I. Several times through waking up in the morning, through the mists of hangover, I asked if I should go, and she kept saying I didn't have to if I didn't want to. Eventually about 1.30 in the afternoon, I needed to go. Her housemates were up and about and I felt horribly awkward and needed to recover some belongings from their living room. I massively panicked and I'd given her my number the night before on paper (before she persuaded me to stay) but she didn't know where it was so she gave me her phone to punch it into - I then told her "Don't one-ring me now though, my battery is dead" which was true, and then I left. And I've spent this week realizing what a dick I was for not getting her number. In my hungover panic attack, I left her my number because I wanted to leave the ball in her court, and didn't want to ask for her number in case she didn't really want to give it me.
So I spent this week thinking.... will she text me (she hasn't yet)? Did I imagine that even through the shy quirkiness that she seemed genuinely interested in me, or was I actually just a drunken mistake? What if she's as shy as I am, and just can't bring herself to text me? Maybe she's as shit at "the game" as I am and doesn't want to text for fear of seeming too eager/easy? Should I pop a note through her letterbox (I know the area, I remember where she lives) as some of the girls at work suggest is "romantic" but I think is too much like being a stalker? I've text my friends who know better about this type of thing. Thankfully not many have give me the truth I'm trying not to face up to : maybe I'm just reading too much into a casual fumble, and I have an unfortunate habit of falling very quickly for any pretty girl that pays me any attention.
So, what has one to do with the other? As I lay there post-wank last night, I realized most people figure this kind of crap out in their teens and early 20s, and I never did. I was ALWAYS that guy that stays in masturbating instead of getting out there, meeting girls, learning how to read signs and learning to NOT try and date every girl that puts her tongue in my mouth. And now, I waste too many evenings on saving more pics than I'll ever need. Creative things I could be doing (and I have projects on the go) are neglected because there are naked girls to look at. When people ask "what did you do last night?" I just say "Nothing" because it's better than the truth. I don't like who I am. It's time to change that. I've been going back to the gym this week, but it's the extra wasted downtime that needs fixing. How much better would I do at work if I was sleeping properly instead of staying up late to toss off? How much keener would I be (at least unconsciously) to go out and meet someone to become a proper, regular sexual partner, if I didn't have so much porn to fall back on?
At the moment, I'm right on the edge of a big call. I'm thinking of dumping my pics collection, maybe purging the drive of scenes too. Fair enough, the DVDs will stay. A man has urges, so having Belladonna a/k/a Filthy Whore to hand might be necessary for when it gets too much. But porn has become a hobby, a pastime, and I worry its become a waste of my time to the detriment of actually having a life. It defines a lot of who I am when I'm not working, and that fact has only just become apparent to me. Most guys watch porn when they need to, but for most of them I imagine that amounts to the 2 minutes of Spankwire or equivalent that they need to fulfill their need, probably no more time than they'd take over taking a piss. What I do isn't normal, and it isn't healthy.
I've seen the argument and I've made the argument over the years that a porn habit is not a problem if nobody's getting hurt. Well, I think my habit is hurting someone. It's hurting me. There's a very real possibility my porn consumption, very shortly, will become limited to approving attachments in the mod capacity.
I don't know why I felt like posting this here ; "cool story bro" is probably on its way. But I had to get it off my chest how I feel and what I'm doing, and it's not like I can talk to any of my real life friends about it. So, there it is. I think I'm broken, and I'd like to be fixed. There's a big world out there, and I won't see much of it jerking off at my laptop night after night.