PORN!! PORN!! Got your attention yet?
Did I grab your attention with that one? God, I hope so. There seems to be only 2 reactions to the word "porn": turn away in disgust or lock yourself in the bathroom with your IPhone. Am I right? What's your reaction; initially, I mean? I want you to think about that as I go through my diatribe on the subject.
I give you fair warning, folks- THIS IS GOING TO GET GRAPHIC AND VERY UNCOMFORTABLE (depending on your stance on the subject). You might want to turn away now if you're "that person". I pull no punches, but I've got a message here. I'm being brutally, debaucherously honest. Get ready. I warned you.
You still here? Good. Let's begin. This diatribe will not paint me in the most flattering light. I know this. I also know that most (i.e. the vast majority) of men my age are in the same boat as me......as well as a few women. Come on now, ladies. You know who you are. Double clicking your mouse is not a crime.
Pornograpghy is a subject that I have long had a vested interest in and have defended staunchly. After all, everyone spanks their monkey. If you're a dude then this statement is not negotiable unless you're over the age of (let's arbitrarily say) 55-60 or you're SERIOUSLY religious. Even then you're probably still sneaking one in every now and then anyways (and God only knows, literally, what your repressed ass is thinking about). If you're a woman then at least a few of you will be nodding your heads. I've spoken with enough frankly honest women on the subject to know that some of y'all are enjoying yourselves, too.
Let me give you a little backstory of my history with the wonderful world of porn.
I was 9 years old when I saw my first porn. It wasn't softcore, for the record. I don't remember the title of this little gem, but it starred porn legends Christy Canyon and Amber Lynn. There was everything you'd expect in 1980's porn- bad dialogue, goofy premise, amazing mustaches, bomb-ass musical score.....as well as all of the hardcore (including anal) that you could watch in an hour. This movie was left in the VCR by an aunt of mine who had apparently been partying pretty hard the night before (as her panties were halfway under the couch). Me, my brother and my cousin were mesmerized. Life had changed. We knew this in a fundamental way that resonated on a very deep level.
Some things can't be unseen, like that time you walked in on your parents.
They say that your basic wiring, so to speak, is all in place by the "age of reason" (estimated at 7 years old). I disagree, at least in the context of having seen something that alien to your everyday life. The curtain was pulled back, and it wasn't some metaphorical kindly old man behind it. It was something that you knew (on a purely instinctive level) existed, but in a grotesque parody. The phrase mind-blowing comes to mind, but it is a pale description. My brain was officially on fire.
From that moment forward it stayed in my head. If we went to the damn convenience store I would wander over to the rack and check out the titty-mags. I dug through drawers when the opportunity arose (sometimes in friend's houses....sorry about that). I had a knack for finding cast aside Playboy or Hustler in the woods. I hung out under the stairs. I was The Porn Whisperer.
My brother had a job babysitting for a fellow by the name of Mr. Burns as a teenager. We would tag along so we could play Dungeons and Dragons at his house until the wee hours of the morning. In one of my searches I came across a bank of VHS drawers (remember those, old timers?!). What was inside, you may ask?
You guessed it. It was the motherfucking GOLD MINE!!!! Two drawers of tapes he had recorded from rented tapes on his complex, double-VCR setup shone before my eyes. You could hear a chorus of sexually deviant angels singing Hallelujah to the Boners. It was, in a word, divine.....like finding buried treasure. There were at least two (sometimes three) titles per tape, the labels neatly written out in careful print. The one we took home (to be passed around obsessively between three dirty teen boys for years to come) contained "Anal Angels", "Where the Boys Aren't Vol. 5" and "The Best of Caught From Behind". I didn't lose track of that tape until I was in my 20's.
No, I'm not kidding. This was 1992. Mr. Burns was a dirty motherfucker, and we were reaping the benefits. On a side note there was a tape of his own wife in there doing some EXTREMELY awful things. I'll go no further on that score; I still can't get the image out of my head. I never looked at German Shepherds the same way again, though.
Years and years pass with my habit never wavering and then something amazing happens (at least, I thought so at the time): the internet became a real thing. Porno shops died slowly out. VHS and DVD became relics that people spoke of in the same breath as hula-hoops or the Pet Rock. Here we find ourselves today.
But, here's the thing: there is such a thing as too much. I never would've believed that at 13 years old. Or 21 years old. Or even 30 years old. I'm an addictive person by nature, and I've made the rounds with all of the usual vices and then gotten "clean". I still struggle with smoking, at least at work. I do enjoy good Scotch, but it's recreational to the Nth degree. And I do NOT include weed on here....it's not a drug.
But addiction is a funny thing, in the sense that anything can be an addiction- food, sex, drugs, alcohol, being an asshole, driving too fast, picking your nose....and yes, porn. In some ways I am coming to believe that porn may be the worst of all. The hardest habits to kick are the ones that tap into a basic, human need (like food or sex). There's always an excuse and there is instinctive, primal need. It's downright insidious, I tell ya.
Porn has never been an issue in terms of affecting my sex life. The equipment still works just fine, thank you very much. Still, there is an area (a plateau, if you will) that you reach where you start to wonder what kind of psychological damage this much insane smut does to you. So, as a means of science experimentation, I decided to cut myself off from the steady flow of filth available on the World Wide Web.
It's been a month now. I'm going to let that sink in, especially for those of you who really know me. A month. A whole fucking month. The last time I went a month without choking my chicken I didn't have hair on my balls. That is not an exaggeration.
What have I discovered in my month of self-celibacy? Funny you should ask. The mind is a labyrinth, and they say we forget nothing. The brain is simply a big-ass computer, and mine has been programmed to some really funky shit for a long time now. It has revolted against me.
My dreams have been absolutely, balls-out, shame the devil, bugshit crazy. I believe my mind is trying to purge something. Actually, I know it is. I'm not what you'd call a traditionally sane person under the best of circumstances, and the flexibility of my mind is being tested. The dreams are dark and disturbing. I am not a violent person in a sexual sense. I don't "like it rough". Needless to say, I don't condone rape or violence towards women. It's deplorable in the truest sense of the word.
However, my brain has gone rogue on me and is showing me things I never want to see again. My theory? It's the programming freaking out and demanding more. It's that notion and the power of those images and those dreams that tell me I'm on the right track. Had I not filled my head with so much porn I don't think this would be an issue.
My only conclusion that I can draw from this is that it's simply not healthy. Which is funny, since I have long been a proponent of the "your dick is a pressure release valve" theory. Never heard that one? It's the theory that says you've got to let the poisons out of the building every now and then. It's a patented catchphrase of mine, and I've never felt any shame in that. Psychologically speaking, masturbation is healthy. It's a proven fact and everyone does it. The problem arises from the dependence on the porn, the "more and more" mentality that it creates.
It's gotten loads easier (sorry, I couldn't resist that joke) to go without it, and the dreams are easing off. I'm still a perv; I guess I always will be. Don't go thinking I'm all of a sudden a choir boy and shit. Let's not get crazy. But porn? I can live without it.
Can you?
