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OLD ALONE/ISOLATED, BUT WHAT NOBODY DARES TO WRITE ABOUT.
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health finalized with eccentric personality which is for the zookeepers as they call themselves(or animal services for those of you whom deem highly of yourself) the easiest to steer into desired self destructive based on self denial rejection direction. In the name of real God who amongst all others have also created oin humans reproductive organs, I condemn article as seen bellow and will not bent to those whom word of god is the just the way of transport(a tool to manipulate). AMEN AND FUCK THE FANATICISM(AND RAPE BASED ON OSTRACIZEMENT VIA EMPLOYMENT) AND WHAT MK ULTRA IN MY CASE WAS AND IS USED FOR. USE IT OR LOOSE IT AND IF YOU WON'T USE IT, YOU WON'T BE CAPABLE TO USE IT WHEN REAL OPPORTUNITY OPENS !!! I was and am against pedophilia - never was attracted to and would suggest porn browsers to only open windows which they have use off and not whatever opens in front of their eyes. Porn browsing despite ability for one to exercise ultimate
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relaxation, still remains a line of work just as everything else in life. With too many windows open, you might endup with too many issues unsolved till you are pinpointed to the wrong answer and proven wrong by the real predators/terrorists. Do it responsibly and date in real time if you can and know that those who pose next to kids aren't worth anything more than yourself and often times are behind crime with idea to make you feel less worthy. If you have partner, share it with your partner. Celebrate real God not idiotusinsantus hidding behind CCTV (closed-circuit television)
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‘I was wasting four hours a day looking at porn’
Anonymous author
Thu, 18 January 2024 at 6:00 pm CET·11-min read
David*, 43, is a management consultant. He’s divorced, lives in south-east London and has one teenage son
It was a perfect summer Saturday. The weather was balmy, and the sound of families chattering on their way to Greenwich Park filtered through the big bay window in the living room at the front of my Georgian home on a leafy street. A typical suburban dwelling of the well-to-do.
But the shutters were firmly closed; the lights were off. The noise of a flyer dropping through my letterbox broke my deep concentration and I noticed the time on my laptop screen. F---. It was 3pm. I had been there, by myself, since waking at 8am, relentlessly scrolling and clicking through porn sites. I’d already dodged a text from a lovely girl I was seeing and passed on a brunch invite from a friend.
This depressing scene was me in 2019. I felt so lonely, a loser. To the outside world I was a successful man in my late 30s, who’d weathered a divorce, was back dating, and apparently living the bachelor dream. I had my own home and enough cash to treat any date to a meal at a decent restaurant. Yet here I was, mindlessly masturbating, desperately lonely. Pathetic.
Skip ahead: How to manage porn addiction
My relationship with porn had begun – probably like millions of other British pre-teen boys that grew up in the 1980s and early 1990s – when I discovered a stash of enticing, soft-focus magazines with names like Fiesta and Razzle under my older brother’s mattress. The pages were filled with busty girls in lacy underwear, their eyes seductive and hair long; slim bodies with improbably large breasts; tantalising shots of pink, brown and black nipples that I’d never seen in real life. They gave me a funny, excited feeling. These were the same kind of well-thumbed mags that were passed around on the coach as we travelled to our well-known, fee-paying school’s rugby fixtures.
We’d all be gawping at the magazine in a group, yet we wouldn’t discuss our favourites or the specifics of what titillated us, other than the predictable “wow, look at those”. Looking at porn already felt like a solitary pursuit. I found the more gynaecological pictures a bit scary back then and gravitated to the “soft” ones – topless or undressed women, that kind of thing.
As I got older, the internet became more accessible (albeit the old dial-up system), and I discovered porn websites. Pictures downloaded pixel by pixel. You were aware you were blocking others in the house – perhaps Mum – from using the landline, and potentially running up huge bills. Yet this added to the sense of porn use being elicit. The early browsers didn’t have “incognito” mode; the history needed clearing after browsing sessions. (If you don’t know how to go incognito, ask a bloke – I assure you they will.)
Coming from an all-boys school, and with no sisters, I was a late starter with girls. I was awkward; more into music and sport. Then, at university, I grew in confidence and started having sex and relationships. After relentless teen boy talk, it was like a whole aspect of life had been opened up. No amount of porn can prepare you for the sheer thrill of having actual sex. All the things that had looked a bit weird in the magazines were suddenly routes into pleasure. I had a girlfriend my age, Jessica*, who was stunning and studious – I couldn’t believe my luck. We shared a student house and I wanted to have sex with her all the time. Sadly, she did not. Not wanting to nag her (or be rejected), I’d frequently take myself and my laptop off to a quiet room, secretly using porn before climbing into bed with her. I was too immature then to question whether her reluctance was related to my performance.
When I graduated in 2001 and landed a job, things took a turn. I broke up with Jessica and my work often took me away from home. I had a lot of time to kill in the evenings. This was before internet dating and apps, so I spent hours looking at internet porn.
Because I moved so often for work, it became normal to have short, sex-based flings rather than regular relationships. Now I realise this was the time when porn was “normalised” for me. I never thought to use paid sites or cable television channels when it was free and plentiful on the web.
When I eventually settled in London in 2006, porn had become a large part of my life. Like a hobby. Faster streaming of videos meant spending even more hours – and I do mean hours – browsing. Daily. Often in a “relaxing” pre-bedtime routine.
Then I fell hard for Puja*, a sexy, whip-smart, entirely dazzling colleague. It was such a passionate relationship, for three months I was in heaven. We perhaps shouldn’t have been shocked when she fell pregnant, and I immediately proposed, assuming this was the “right thing”. We married quickly, and tried our best as we had a child, but the arguments flared as the passion faded. I was devastated to be a divorcé by 30, but we agreed to co-parent our child with love – just not together.
Life became very dark, and my porn use spiralled. I was back living alone, with a high-stress job, and I’d accepted that my heavy porn use – four hours every night – was an actual addiction.
I have no training in medicine or psychology, but I know that a hallmark of addiction is loss – of friends, relationships, jobs, or just huge chunks time and your own self-worth. I have spent whole evenings and days off “using” sites.
Porn used up all my downtime and became my only way out of stress. If I was up against it at work or, to my shame, dealing with a stroppy toddler, a quick look at my phone (yes, by now it was there too) gave me the dopamine hit I craved. I wasn’t even hiding in the loos – just looking for one quick picture or gif would suffice. Once, I brought something up on a site and accidentally left the sound on, filling my open-plan office with the sounds you can imagine. Yet it still wasn’t the wake-up call I needed.
There’s an old joke that men who say they don’t look at porn are either liars or can’t access the internet. It’s amazing how little men talk about it. I didn’t. This is a multibillion-pound industry, yet we don’t talk about it seriously. Perhaps if men were more open, I would have realised the extent of my problem and modified my behaviour. Perhaps.
Being single and dating can be depressing. And porn use definitely gave me a warped take on sex with women. The performance (mine) became all-important, rather than developing feelings. I’ve genuinely never looked at a real woman and compared her unfavourably with porn stars, though I’ve heard younger men can have this issue, which saddens me. I’d often plan my dating schedules, because if I’d masturbated all day, I didn’t want to compromise erections during sex. I misjudged this sometimes, leaving me unable to “perform”. Mortifying – for both me and her.
I could usually “pull” (yes, that’s horribly arrogant), but couldn’t form lasting relationships, yet I didn’t connect the dots.
When you read other articles about porn use, there’s an implication that it takes you to dark places. But in my case I never felt I was watching violent or non-consensual stuff, and I certainly never wanted to do any of that with women.
Did I think about the ethics? I have to be honest here: asking a porn addict if they’re concerned for the welfare of the performers is like asking a heroin addict if they’re worried about the opium farmers.
So how did this all end for me? Well, there was no rock bottom for my addiction, in the way alcoholics describe. It was a much less dramatic combination of things. My son is now a teenager (we don’t discuss masturbation, but perhaps we should) and the idea of him falling into my trap terrifies me.
I also finally met a wonderful, non-judgmental partner whose friendship I craved. I worship her and our sex life is healthy and honest. As I’ve hit my 40s, I suppose that indefatigable urge to masturbate wanes. I’ve learnt that meaningful sex with a real lover (complete with stretch marks and wobbly bits I adore) leaves me feeling really fulfilled, and not lonely.
My porn use nearly destroyed my chance of finding love, but I still believe masturbating itself is normal, healthy behaviour. I still do it now every few days to relax. It’s less damaging than unwinding by smoking or drinking.
But I’ve put my days of using internet porn behind me. Thank God.
As told to Susanna Galton
What Happens If You Stop Having Sex?
People go through dry spells in the bedroom for all kinds of reasons. Maybe they’re busy, or maybe they’re single. Or they might just decide they want a break.
If that break goes on long enough, though, it can have an effect on your body and some parts of your life. But it’s important to remember that there’s no “right” amount for everyone. What’s key is that you find what works best for you.
Anxiety and Stress
If you don’t have sex with your partner often, that may make you feel less connected to them, which can mean you don’t talk about your feelings much or get a lot of support in managing day-to-day stressors.
And sex makes your body release hormones, like oxytocin and endorphins, that can help you manage the effects of stress. Oxytocin has the added benefit of helping you sleep.
Memory
Research is in the early stages, but some studies have shown that people who have sex often are better at recalling memories. And there are signs that sex can help your brain grow neurons and work better in general.
Relationship Health
Regular sex helps you feel emotionally close to your partner, which opens the door to better communication. Couples who have sex more often tend to say they’re happier than those who get less of it.
But it doesn’t have to happen every day -- once a week seems to be enough. This seems to be true no matter your age or gender, or how long you’ve been in the relationship.
Immune System
Regular sex can help your body fight off illness, so having it less often might lead to more colds and the like. In one study, college students who had sex one to two times per week were shown to have higher levels of a certain antibody (called immunoglobulin A) that plays an important role in your immune system.
Vaginal Walls and Lubrication
If you’re a woman who’s gone through menopause, you have another reason to keep having sex. Without regular intercourse, your vagina can tighten and its tissues can get thinner and be more likely to get injured, tear, or even bleed during sex. This can be so uncomfortable that women with these symptoms avoid having sex, which can make it worse.
Changes related to menopause, such as vaginal dryness and irritation, can be treated with lubricants, moisturizers, or low-dose estrogen.
Prostate Cancer
For men, how often they have sex may be linked to their chances of prostate cancer, but the evidence is mixed. Some experts think that sex might actually raise your odds, by possibly exposing you to sexually transmitted diseases that lead to inflammation.
But in one large study of almost 30,000 men, those who said they ejaculated more than 21 times a month on average had lower chances of prostate cancer during their lifetimes, compared with those who ejaculated four to seven times a month.
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