I fell off the wagon a number of months ago, breaking my promise to myself not to look at porn or “do” myself. It was bound to happen, I suppose. I don’t do it much, but I do it and I’d really rather not.
The last time — two nights ago — I came away with this incredible sense of boredom. I felt oversaturated with images of women’s bodies, all disconnected from any sort of, well, connection with the person. When you remove that connection — really, it’s just all the same, and it feels very mechanical, the whole enterprise. I can’t even look at images of men and women together, because men doing it look just like dogs, as I suppose I must look, too. So I prefer watching women together, or alone, if I’m going to partake at all.
But still — after thousands of breasts and vaginas, it’s just all the same. I keep thinking it’s my age, that I’m losing some libido, and that if I were younger, I’d have an insatiable appetite for porn. But I think it’s more than that. I think that sex, by itself, stripped of all connection, is just very mechanical. This is not a blindingly new thought, I realize. It’s just a waste of libido to spend it on a little wad of cum in a napkin. Thank you very much, whoever you are — click.
The thing is, those are real women on the screen — and yet, they’re not. You make them who you want them to be. God forbid they should talk. Sometimes you’ll see a close-up of a woman’s fingers, and they’ll have these awful nails, and I have this thought that if she were clothed, those nails would be such a larger percentage of her exposed body and the fact that they look so awful speaks volumes about her — about how she does (or does not) take care of herself, or maybe it indicates a drug habit, or whatever. As you sit there wanking off, how many actually wonder what sort of woman would actually be getting fucked on camera, and would you ever, ever really want to be with her in real life? Of course not! “Hey Mom, meet ‘Natasha’, I met her online…” and then that awful voice, the gritty, raspy, uneducated voice with nothing to say, no interests in common. But online — we’re all done, and…click. Bye bye. No need for post-coital conversation that might reveal something about each of us. I mean, isn’t that the best part?
I wish I had not seen so many breasts and vaginas this way. It dulls much of the mystery of sex. It’s not just the bodies, but the responses of those bodies — over and over again, the same general idea. Stimulate this, or that, and she cums and makes noise. I mean, whoop-de-doo.
When you see this, you have to also see it in yourself. You see your states of arousal, your climax, as just another bunch of bodily states, not much different from any other bodily state like hunger, or fatigue, or happy eating. Sure, it’s pleasurable — but the pleasure only goes so far. This pleasure has a peak beyond which you can’t go. And so you do it again, in a pathetic attempt to climb the mountain a little higher, to see more. But you always reach the same level, more or less.
Only through sex + love can you get anywhere higher.
I fell off the wagon a number of months ago, breaking my promise to myself not to look at porn or “do” myself. It was bound to happen, I suppose. I don’t do it much, but I do it and I’d really rather not.
The last time — two nights ago — I came away with this incredible sense of boredom. I felt oversaturated with images of women’s bodies, all disconnected from any sort of, well, connection with the person. When you remove that connection — really, it’s just all the same, and it feels very mechanical, the whole enterprise. I can’t even look at images of men and women together, because men doing it look just like dogs, as I suppose I must look, too. So I prefer watching women together, or alone, if I’m going to partake at all.
But still — after thousands of breasts and vaginas, it’s just all the same. I keep thinking it’s my age, that I’m losing some libido, and that if I were younger, I’d have an insatiable appetite for porn. But I think it’s more than that. I think that sex, by itself, stripped of all connection, is just very mechanical. This is not a blindingly new thought, I realize. It’s just a waste of libido to spend it on a little wad of cum in a napkin. Thank you very much, whoever you are — click.
The thing is, those are real women on the screen — and yet, they’re not. You make them who you want them to be. God forbid they should talk. Sometimes you’ll see a close-up of a woman’s fingers, and they’ll have these awful nails, and I have this thought that if she were clothed, those nails would be such a larger percentage of her exposed body and the fact that they look so awful speaks volumes about her — about how she does (or does not) take care of herself, or maybe it indicates a drug habit, or whatever. As you sit there wanking off, how many actually wonder what sort of woman would actually be getting fucked on camera, and would you ever, ever really want to be with her in real life? Of course not! “Hey Mom, meet ‘Natasha’, I met her online…” and then that awful voice, the gritty, raspy, uneducated voice with nothing to say, no interests in common. But online — we’re all done, and…click. Bye bye. No need for post-coital conversation that might reveal something about each of us. I mean, isn’t that the best part?
I wish I had not seen so many breasts and vaginas this way. It dulls much of the mystery of sex. It’s not just the bodies, but the responses of those bodies — over and over again, the same general idea. Stimulate this, or that, and she cums and makes noise. I mean, whoop-de-doo.
When you see this, you have to also see it in yourself. You see your states of arousal, your climax, as just another bunch of bodily states, not much different from any other bodily state like hunger, or fatigue, or happy eating. Sure, it’s pleasurable — but the pleasure only goes so far. This pleasure has a peak beyond which you can’t go. And so you do it again, in a pathetic attempt to climb the mountain a little higher, to see more. But you always reach the same level, more or less.
Only through sex + love can you get anywhere higher.