I’m writing this because I think I’ve hit rock bottom, and now I’ll either push off from it or there are still three more metres of mud below me. It’s not that I expect anyone to help me, because I know very well that I have to pull myself out of this. Nobody will do it for me.
My story starts the way so many do. I began masturbating early in middle school, at first to pictures and to snatches of erotic scenes I caught in secret. When I was about seventeen, my adventure with free porn sites began. Usually I watched once a week, for an hour or two. Sometimes I fell into a binge lasting several days, followed by a longer break. Probably never longer than two weeks, though. I was never drawn to harder porn; I didn’t need to increase the “intensity”. I didn’t think about stopping. Only sometimes did it occur to me how much time I was wasting on it. I had a good excuse for why I did it: my real problem.
Here comes the twist that makes my story different from most: I’m twenty-seven today and I’ve never had a girlfriend. I’ve never had any relationships with women other than at work or at school: no female friends, nobody close, nothing. (I don’t have many male friends either, for that matter.) I’ve never even held a girl’s hand or hugged one, let alone anything more. A typical forever alone, the forty-year-old virgin, to put it brutally, a loser. The reasons would take a long time to find. Let’s call them, for now, social phobia or pathological shyness.
It isn’t that porn causes my problems with forming relationships. It’s more the other way round. Porn as a cure for the lack of sex. I started watching videos at seventeen; I’d had the shyness practically forever. Since primary school I was the kid nobody liked and everybody laughed at. Today I can’t even imagine myself in a relationship with a girl. I wouldn’t know the simplest things. How to behave, how to chat a girl up, how to start a conversation. Do I say “hi” or “good morning”, or introduce myself? And then what? If, God forbid, she actually wants to talk to me, what will I tell her? That my head is empty and I’d like to run as far away as possible? I’ve never been to a bar, a club, a café or wherever young people go. I wouldn’t have a clue how to behave there. I’m trying to paint a picture of a guy with excellent prospects of being alone for the rest of his life.
But I didn’t feel particularly sorry for myself. Or rather, I told myself it was great, that loneliness had its advantages. That I was free as a bird and had plenty of money. Only at the same time I was giving myself over to my two addictions: porn and overeating. Food especially filled the emptiness in my life. It became the only and most easily available pleasure. First I went to classes, then, after graduating, to work, but apart from that I did nothing interesting with my life. A whole year went by as one long festival of masturbating to internet videos and binge eating in the evenings. I got fatter and fatter, and I felt like doing less and less. Of anything.
But then came big changes. Right around New Year, following a link from a forum, I came across articles about porn, and for the first time I thought that porn might be harmful, that maybe my general lack of motivation and laziness also came from the exhaustion of sitting at the computer for hours. I didn’t believe I could quit, so I decided to cut down. The longest breaks lasted a little over a month, but I still had binges lasting several days when I went back to the habit. Somehow, all by myself, I suddenly felt the desire and the ability to do something more with my life. Maybe it really was because I’d cut down on porn; I certainly had more time.
I started watching my diet and stopped stuffing myself with sweets. From the middle of the year I got into some exercise: first a few push-ups and sit-ups to stop my muscles wasting away, then I started cycling a lot (I’d always liked it but neglected it), and lately I even run, since winter has put the bike out of action. I also started travelling a bit. For years I’d dreamed of taking the high-speed train to Paris, and now I simply bought a ticket and went. I have big travel plans for this year too. I’ve started to like my job, and in general I’m more positive about life.
And on that rising wave, I decided I’d had enough of being a virgin. The first time, I lasted longer than I expected. We talked for a while and tried again, but I could feel it wasn’t going to happen. Only one thing bothered me a little: I felt strangely little. Physically, I mean, down there. A month later I had sex for the second time. And a defeat: I couldn’t finish. Actually I felt very little at all. At first my erection was normal, but by the end it had gone completely limp. I came home and helped myself with my hand, and finished without any problem. Is that the famous death grip?
That’s where I am today. Surprisingly, this failure didn’t break me. If anything, it was the kick up the backside I needed. Now I’m resolving to fast completely. No porn, no masturbation. That’s partly why I wrote this. First, I wanted to put my thoughts in order, and second, to motivate myself. That’s how I am: if I tell someone I want to do something, I’m more motivated to actually stick to it. But the thought is also sprouting in my head of going to a specialist (a psychologist, a psychotherapist?) about this phobia / shyness / avoidant personality of mine. It may sound a bit naive, like something from a thirteen-year-old’s diary, but the truth is I feel terrifyingly lonely and I would like to have someone close.
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