I first got into porn as soon as I got my first laptop.
(Watching it, that is. Unfortunately not performing.)
The laptop was a high school graduation gift from my parents. Mostly a practical gift so I could type up papers, access the internet, and do all those other things I needed to do when I went off to college that fall. This was 2010–half a lifetime ago now–and I was 18, so getting a laptop was a step on my path to adulthood.
It also turned out to be my introduction to the wide world of internet pornography.
I consider myself a porn addict, but I'm working on it and I hope to become a sex addict someday.
More than likely I was less experienced than the average 18 year old. I was a bookish kid with no idea at all of what the real world was like. I'd grown up in a devoutly Catholic family, but I'd stopped believing in God when I was 15 years old. I was so afraid of what my parents would think about this that I wouldn't get around to telling them about my lack of faith until a long time later–the day before I left for my sophomore year of college, as a matter of fact.
But that's another story. I guess I might as well tell you that unlike a lot of atheists at the time I wasn't happy about it. The Catholic Church seemed to me a very beautiful and life-giving thing, and when I lost my faith in God I lost my faith in life for a very long time. It seemed to me obscene to think the world could exist without God being there to guarantee that life would have some meaning. But I couldn't find any meaning. It seems like a cliche, but it's the truth: I fell into a deep depression, even suicidal at times, and it lasted for many years. When I went to college it didn't even occur to me to study something practical so I could make a career for myself–what was the use when I was convinced I could easily be dead by my own hand at almost any moment? So when I went off to college it was to study philosophy. I figured there, at least, I might be able to figure out a good reason to go on living, and the how would work itself out in time.
I knew nothing about the world except for a lot of old books, and much of the time I wanted to die. Is it any wonder I was so quick to fall into addictions?
I got into trouble in college. Someday I'll tell you all about it, but for now we're talking about pornography.
I'd never seen a naked girl before. I'd never undone a woman's bra before. I'd never been in bed with a woman before. The most I'd done was exchange a few innocent little kisses with the puppy love girlfriend I'd written so much passionate poetry for.
Which isn't to say I didn't know anything at all. I'd heard about a thing called pornography before, and I'd even heard tell that you could find it on the internet. And I don't want you to get the idea that it was the first thing that I looked up immediately as soon as I had a laptop and could use the internet without the risk of Mom and Dad looking over my shoulder.
But I was curious about it.
And I wouldn't look it up directly at first. No, I had to conceal what I was doing from myself–maybe out of a good Catholic boy's ingrained habit of prudishness, maybe out of a feeling that I was getting into something that would get out of control, or maybe out of a desire to prolong the inevitable. (I might as well mention that there was never any talk of sex in our house. The closest thing I ever got to the talk was a strained conversation with Mom where she told me to be careful because some girls out there might try to lead me astray into getting them pregnant.)
No, instead of going straight for it I found ways to come across pictures of naked women as if by accident. Maybe you'll remember Uncyclopedia. It was a parody of Wikipedia, and it may still exist even now. All sorts of joke articles with fake information on various subjects–a little like today's internet but a little more innocent. And anyway, there were a few semi-pornographic images on the site. I knew where to find them, at least, and once I'd done enough dithering to let myself believe I'd found them by accident, I could enjoy them.
It seems almost quaint to get off on still photographs and pretend to yourself it was all by accident. But we have to start somewhere.
I still remember the first picture I ever masturbated to online. And it was the most softcore thing you can imagine. The girl (a blonde) was naked, but you couldn't see anything. She was seated in a chair with a pink hat, and I think she was wearing heels. Facing to the left, with a long, tapering leg lifted up at a steep angle. A mischievous expression on her face.
She was all I could imagine ever wanting in the world. Simply seeing her was the most exciting thing I could think of. And there was a kind of romantic feeling about it, there at the innocent beginning. I didn't realize what I was getting into. I distinctly remember mouthing the words "Thank you" to her as I came.
Now that the barrier was broken, I gradually worked my way deeper into the world of internet pornography. And when I look back on it, it's fascinating just how gradually I had to work myself up to each next step. Maybe I had the feeling I was getting into something wrong, unnatural, that I really shouldn't take the next step even though I wanted to so badly.
For a while I kept strictly to still images. And I'd usually find the images on sites that branded themselves as artistic in some way. See, I'm not jerking off to porn, I'm appreciating art!
But I kept coming back and coming back, barely realizing at first what a hold it already had over me. More than likely I was already looking up these pictures at least once a day, even multiple times a day. It seemed like a good thing–they're so pretty, plus it was art, not porn, which made it all okay.
But eventually I got curious about what was out there, and I got into sites that clearly and unmistakably presented themselves as porn sites. Mostly still images, a gif here and there, with a lot of selfies from girls who looked like they could live next door. (Makes me curious in hindsight about just how honestly these sites came by their content, come to think of it…) So, step by step, it might have been months before I ever came to any of the porn video sites.
I think RedTube was the first one. A clip of a brunette in red lingerie doing a cam session–not that I really understood at the time what a cam session was. And here again, I followed the same step-by-step progression. At first all I would watch was videos of individual girls doing stripteases. Eventually I worked myself up to watching videos where the girl would masturbate. Then lesbian videos. Only after a very long time would I watch anything where there was a man and a woman involved–I had a strong aversion against seeing a penis on screen, and it took a long time for that inhibition to get worn away.
And there were other inhibitions that gradually got worn away. But I'm not really here to talk about all that. At least not now.
I'm here to talk about porn addiction.
I really don't need to go over all the negatives of porn addiction. Just like any addiction, it threatens to consume your life. It's a pattern of behavior that sticks around even after you decide you don't want to do it anymore. It's a kindly, reassuring friend that only reveals its sharp teeth and taste for human flesh after it's already too late.
The really interesting thing about any addiction, though, is figuring out what it does for you. The question isn't what's so bad about it, but what's good about it? And you might think, "Well, it's no wonder you got hooked on it, it feels good!"
But that's not enough to do it. If feeling good were enough to make an addiction, everyone would get addicted. It's not something external that makes people get addicted , it's not something in the substance or the behavior. It's something in the addict, which they're trying to address by means of the compulsive behavior.
And it's not like I can separate myself out of what I'm talking about. It's not like porn doesn't have a hold on me anymore. I'm in the process of writing about how porn doesn't serve me, but I've looked up more than one porn video in the course of writing this post. Isn't that fascinating?
I'm really not looking forward to having this post go live. People are going to read this, people are going to know all about me. They'll see how disgusting I am.
(If anybody reads this post, that is. Not likely, judging by previous posts! Although I wouldn't be surprised if fate decided this would be the one where I find an audience.)
Although… just that worry… maybe that's what I get out of using porn. Nobody has to know me. I don't have to risk letting myself be known by anybody else.
I had a pretty horrendous relationship in college, a relationship that ended about ten years ago. And in all the time since then, I've never been in a relationship and never really even wanted one–a few bizarre fantasy fixations excepted, of course. I've dated now and again, but not with any real interest or frequency. And (to put it crudely) the porn gives me what I want out of a woman without having to put up with the actual woman.
And I know how that sounds. I'm sure I'm no picnic either. I'm absolutely terrified of letting anyone close to me–because they'll see how disgusting I am and hate me for it, or because I'll see how disgusting they are and hate them for it but be so entangled in a situation I can't get out of that I just end up passively resenting them for the rest of our lives.
Between porn and actually relating to a real-life flesh and blood woman… honestly…? The porn has downsides, but they don't leap out at my attention. The woman probably has her upsides but as soon as I see a woman I'm the least bit attracted to in real life, all the alarm bells in my mind start blazing, "DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!"
And if only you knew the kind of porn I find myself watching…
So I'm avoiding intimacy. Except in my writing, where I'll tell anyone in the world the most sordid details of my life. But writing does the same thing as porn–it gives you the fantasy of the kind of intimacy it at the same time withholds from you because you don't really want it. What you really want is to have the fantasy that you really do want the fantasy and you just can't have it. While the reality is that you could have the fantasy but you don't want it. Or aren't willing to pay the price for it.
So maybe I'll be single for the rest of my life. I already took a vow of celibacy until my writing starts bringing in enough income for me to quit my day job. Maybe by the time that day comes I'll be sufficiently okay with myself to be willing to let somebody know me without thinking they'll be disgusted as soon as they see what I really am.
Kinda doubt it, but here's hoping!
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