After several months, I have to admit that quitting porn is beyond difficult. For as many benefits as I see online, there is always something that pulls me back. It starts as a mundane curiosity and slowly evolves until suddenly I’m eager to search for an image. An image isn’t real. It’s just something static that will allow me to gawk. For as much as I don’t consider that breaking my streak of not watching porn, there’s still the reality that once the seed is planted, things will grow. I will want to see those images again, and I won’t be so discreet as to keep that from happening. In fact, I may just spiral again.
I say that because, quite frankly, I spiraled again.
Every few weeks, I feel like I have to restart the race. I say “Okay… go!” and see if I can resist the temptation to look. On average, I have gotten up to two weeks before breaking my code. Those are two excellent, disciplined weeks where anything I want to imagine runs free and suddenly I’m in control of my own fantasies. Everything is fine during those 14 days and I’m able to navigate the world with a little less of a perverted lens. Even as I crave seeing certain body types, there is less emphasis on turning reality into sexualized things, or even having those random tangents that just make things weirder.
For those weeks, it does feel like I can forgo pornography altogether and find pleasure elsewhere. I don’t know if anyone remembers what I wrote in my previous entry, but it was a real psychological mess. I was looking at acts that transcended sexual joy and resorted to disgust, notably reminiscent of eating disorder behavior. There was something about the desperation I felt at that moment to enjoy something that I feel like I was subliminally trying to guilt me out of this pattern. It became less personal. Suddenly it was less about a person and more nonsense stimulation that I regret to have ever seen. It’s not just that I watched it, but sometimes those ideas get stuck in my head for a few days afterward, adding some invisible veil of disgust in myself for betraying my own sensibility. I don’t like THAT stuff. I’m honestly more mundane. Basically, the second essay was very much about rerouting other insecurities into the worst possible place.
This time around, I found the journey to have been more interesting. It’s less because of anything that I did or didn’t look at, but more that my overall nature felt more muted this time around. I have yet to have an urge to look at the stuff that disgusts me. Often I am looking at something so mundane that I have to apply my own imagination to just feel anything. There’s so much that still is conflicting about giving up so easily and frequently. How could I ever expect to move beyond it?
To be clear, a lot of this is because the period of two weeks that I keep bringing up was more frequent following the previous entry. I was able to go almost that long more often than not with one or two slip-ups here and there. What’s odd is that I always fall for them the same way. I find myself growing antsy, squirming as I type something up on a computer. The idea is to try and work through the horniness, but suddenly the urge becomes overbearing. A more rational mind would be to shut the laptop off and take my business elsewhere. However, the portal is right there and you best believe it’s tempting. I know the deactivations. I can work around any blockers. Even if I go into in cognito, I know how to get what I want.
Alas, that is why I tried to make a goal for 2024. I wanted to believe that if I could go a longer period without watching porn I would do something special for myself. Ideally a year, but to start smaller I wanted to hit the end of January. Even if it’s speculative that I probably had a few extra days in December 2023 to add to the count, January 2024 would be where the counter started. It was easy enough. Just open your eyes and get moving!
Before I really delve into how that went, I want to focus on something that was happening in tandem with this self-conscious push. While I was more able to regulate my desires, I was finding myself also looking for ways around for a quick fix. I’ve been able to watch sexual acts in fiction cinema without the arousal problem. I was able to get through Poor Things (2023) without that concern. However, it showed up in these odd places that I think Spotify can more actively recognize. I was listening to Christine and the Queen’s “Let Me Touch You Once” and relishing in the vocal exercise that plays throughout the chorus, itself a desperate plea for some intimate longing. I craved hearing it, and I think only part of it is the melodic beauty it had. Similarly, I’ve found myself giving too much into Dorian Electra’s “Fanfare” album whose lead singles have almost entirely been sex-driven. Is it coincidental that the music I was consuming sang about lust so explicitly? Probably not. In fact, I think it explains the equivalent of a chaser. You do enough to take the edge off and move on with your life.
I don’t believe that I was or wasn’t choosing them instinctively. There’s still plenty of music I listened to that was less sex-driven. Maybe I am just into more debaucherous lyrics right now. Whatever the case may be, it was working.
So January 2024 kicks into gear and here we are at the crossroads. Every day I reach that situation and decide if this will be the day I break my vow. More often than not, I would say “No.” I would retreat to a private space and allow my fantasies to take hold of me. They formed their own ongoing stories and I became personally familiar with those who kept showing up. What’s even more interesting is that whereas I am more selective about the porn I would normally consume, the imagination felt freer to address subconscious urges. Every body type seemed to show up. Even with my weight insecurity, there were times when fatter characters entered. Other times I became front and center and allowed for some experimentation. I tried to feel so many things that I had denied myself. While I wouldn’t say it usually worked, there was something to allowing myself to think “What if?” and just go for it.
And that’s how things went. I think much like the porn I’ve described watching prior, it says something about my view of the world. In most cases, there are two parties with one being at a disadvantage. One is either clothed or dominant while the other is often humiliated. I’m not talking like BDSM, though I wasn’t above imagining physical control. Sure, the fantasies were still mundane and driven by an overwhelming need to orgasm, but they were helping me to contextualize things in a less grandiose way. Maybe it’s narcissism to find that type of joy in your own thoughts. I do worry that it restricts certain imagination, but even then I want to believe that it was better than watching porn.
For reasons that remain unclear, this was also during a time when I began to have sex dreams. They were fairly uncommon beforehand and usually provided some metaphor for other parts of my life. Suddenly hardcore images played before me and I had to contemplate what to do with them. Instinctively, I often woke up and everything was immediately erased. It happened twice this month, and both during a period of not looking at porn. There are a lot of ways to consider these thoughts, and I choose to think it was some repressed desire to look at something that I had been depriving myself of. After all, I was still looking at people in other states in other ways. Was I objectifying them less? I think so, though I’ve felt uncomfortable doing that for the less eroticized examples. For as much as I can look at hips or a flat stomach and think “I wish I had that,” I think it becomes difficult to separate attraction from jealousy. As a result, it all arrives near the same place in my brain, hopefully at a quick bypass to not bother me ever again.
And so it all bubbles up inside, rearing its ugly head in very odd formations. Even as temptation emerges, I try to believe that I’ll pull through. I’ve done it day after day.
Then, when it feels like everything is going well, I get the other thing that I can’t fully ignore: morbid curiosity. On an undisclosed podcast that I was listening to, a porn star emerged to talk about her teenage years. It was more trivial, but now and then I kept getting the urge to empathize and in some ways understand a person like I can’t. I wonder what it’s like to be in that industry, having to go through so many days of filming and put up with partners who you may not be attracted to. I become curious about what they feel like when everything happens to the point that I stop living for myself. I need answers. I grow jealous of their potential bodies even if I never know what they look like. I wonder if there’s a way for me to ever have admiration that’s a more platonic version of what their fans had.
So of course, I look them up and see that body. Everything rushes back. Even if it’s just showing off the chest or abdomen in a suggestive way, I’m left wanting to “zoom in.” Take off the safe search. Take everything away and let me bask in this level of vulnerability that few would dare inhabit. Let me witness this ideal shape and feel their joy for a few minutes. Let me look into their face and try to imagine myself being overtaken by someone, lifted and cradled in a moment of unmitigated bliss.
Yes, I know that in some ways this speaks to other insecure personality traits that I carry. It’s partially why I have tried to avoid it. However, I gave in. Off to Pornhub I went to find this podcast guest and with them, dozens and hundreds of people in those states, hiding hints of pleasure just lying a click away. Would I want to see something bigger, smaller, louder, quieter, or maybe with more or fewer people involved? When you see a page like that, you’re reminded that humans usually weren’t exposed to that much sex and nudity in prior centuries. It’s overwhelming and eventually, you forget why you showed up. Alas, when I settled, it was a mesmerizing feeling to finally return to an old ritual.
Was it a one time thing? Not even close. While I have managed to relegate it down to once or twice a day, Pornhub returned to my life with a certain anticipatory joy. I guess I felt hornier, more codependent on needing to not do it offline.
I lasted 18 days. For those 18 days, everything was fine. Ever since, I do think that some anxiety has returned and my inability to fully pull away is a bit too common. I am not yet distracted enough by the thought of porn to feel it’s impacting me socially, though I worry my general disconnection in some circumstances may be a byproduct of it.
With that said, I do think that it’s interesting to know what type of porn has entered the equation this time. As mentioned, it’s more vanilla than the previous round. Sometimes it’s straightforward stuff that’s not worth describing. However, I have found myself curious about the “disadvantaged” scenario. In one case, I returned to the favorite genre of “a fucking interview” where someone answers questions while being penetrated. There is something regarding their interests that makes it more intimate and thrilling. In one case, I got stuck watching this girl talk about Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998) and what she had done in Las Vegas. It wasn’t exactly hot, but I loved the vulnerability aspect. In another video, I watched as this clothed man interviewed women on a sybian trying to avoid orgasm in between questions and giving somebody oral sex. Weird editing aside, something was interesting about the person watching with joy at it all. It was consensual, but it was also interesting how sex had also found a commodity for personalizing the talent during the eroticism.
And yet the one that really makes me question what this all is supposed to symbolize is a fairly recent discovery. The gist of the scene involves a woman as a therapist talking to a group of men who are widows. I am attracted to the opening monologue even if it’s poorly delivered. She wants them to find their confidence to move on from their dead wives. As she runs through a test run with one of the patients, she drops his pants and proceeds to an impromptu blow job, which is considered part of her unorthodox form of recovery. Admittedly, this part may be questionably invasive, but everything that followed reflected this weird psychological drive in me.
From here, it’s a stereotypical gang bang scene. The only difference is that the woman is maybe too enthusiastic and hyperactively circling the now naked men. She is so into it and there’s something wonderful about how she takes control. More importantly, I’m weirdly sold on the continuity as the editing emphasizes mid-act moments of her saying, “Great therapy, huh?” as the guys approve. I’m sure it’s more seen as comic to some, but there is something weird about it being there. I actually like that bit more than anything going on. She commits to character.
I understand that this artifice has usually been in porn before, and yet there is something about the scenario that made it work best for me. Was it the idea of the dead wives, or that I could envision her as a character with actual drives and wants? Something was working for me.
It’s too early to argue whether or not I will stop watching porn and try again. I want to believe I will go back to trying to not be overtaken by it. However, it’s such a powerful force. I keep thinking about that therapist and want to revisit it. I want to understand what it is that attracts me. Is it just the sex, or is there a story that’s grabbing me?
With all this said, I do wonder if my issue has been more porn addiction or moderation. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I’m not exactly against sex work. I think it’s a valuable service. However, I have wanted to push myself away from watching porn, and it’s been a mixed bag. There is no denying that it provides something specific. Am I addicted in the way that someone would be to more physical substances? I don’t even know. Part of me feels like had I gotten to two months, I’d be scratching at my laptop trying to get into those or, worse yet, just looking at PG pictures of people on the beach looking the next thing to suggestive. Is that just as bad?
I apologize if this update wasn’t the least bit optimistic or helpful. As it stands, I do wonder if I will stop trying to “kill” the problem in the future and just find moderation as a better solution. It feels like I’m more level-headed when I do. Then again, those 18 days were promising and gave me a different perspective on the world. One can hope that wherever things go from here I can be rational about them. It’s difficult to say what impact any of this will have, but I think discussing it at least allows me to come to terms with complicated feelings. As I’ve alluded to, I think a lot of it is more than simply staring at eroticized visuals. I need to work on other things too.
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