It’s 06:11 on a Saturday and already I’m tweaking a little bit. I got woken by my favourite pop star Katy Perry (new single “The One That Got Away”, rather than her fine physical self). Right from the get-go I had a raging South-facing erection. Furthermore I move downstairs and get some breakfast. Rachael Riley is on Countdown in a tight-fitting wool dress and on the BBC Susanna Reid looking tasty too. Fuck, already it’s like I’m being tempted left-right and centre.
But I’m focusing on my breathing. Slow steady breathing. More later.
Following a period of blog inactivity I decided to research the deep-seeded paranoia of what my shuffling habits are doing in terms of attracting a girlfriend. Reading “What are the Drawbacks of Masturbation” ( http://www.reuniting.info/resources/porn_masturbation_addiction/drawbacks_masturbation ) is sobering reading (even as I’ve sunk two Tigers – roar). Research has shown that wanking repels women on a chemical level. Kind of like saying “Yeah girl, I’m taking care of my needs in a hands-on fashion”.
This is not good.
And nor is it news. Therefore I’m taking a different approach. Initially I debated going wank-free for eight weeks. As it’s the festive period I’m going to attempt this during the most depressing and couple-heavy time this side of Valentines. Therefore I shall stop using my PC in my bedroom. You see folks, I’m a very secretive monkey and as such I only wank in the comfort of my room. And that’s because the laptop sits there, like a festering temptation. So I’ll move it to the study. I’m meant to be writing in there anyhow and if the laptop stays in there (the strength I’ve got to show is NOT moving it to my room) I can focus on doing productive things rather than destroying my sex drive and my rather battered looking cock.
Speaking of which I did incur the sad aftermath of non-lubricated wanking. I caused a slight friction burn on the shaft, meaning that walking, sitting down and anything involving motion was, well, a little painful. Masturbation is a contact sport with a no-win scoring system. Believe.
Timer is reset on the 2nd December 2011 at 20:01 GMT. I’ve failed myself and you. But for the good of a better life let’s give this another try. The falling off the wagon was encouraged this time by pressure for my ass-clown of a boss. I wanked three times a day most days. And I broke a promise to my folks regarding never phoning a sex line again (phone sex lines have cost my into the ££££’s) which I did and stayed on the call for one hour and 35 minutes.
Time to grow up, yeah?
Anyway, I’m going to read some Bukowski. May the force be strong in you, fellow monkeys…
You know, I believe WordPress.com is mocking me. I was being nosy and checking out my stats (not great – surely I’m not just typing in obscurity for my troubles?) but there’s an ad for hosting that says “Be the Master of your own domain.” Twats. I’m doing what I can.
Anyway, I cracked after a day and a half without jerking off. The stats are currently
Last Wank: 7:01am
Material: Tasteful porn (satin, silk, women)
Time Since: 12 hours approximately
Oddly enough I don’t feel too bad right now. Yesterday I was stressing again. Work stuff. You know the style: bad-ass job, requires now results that you have to get other people to do and the guy who told you the job left key pieces of information out. Right? Anyway, that was all kicking off. And as for my office “mates” (read here: arseholes) wibbling on about their own stuff. And since I need one of said arseholes (let’s call this one Dobby, as she looks like that weird Harry Potter character) to sign off on something, things get majorly passive-aggressive, as only office workplaces do. Seriously I’d prefer all office conflicts to be settled like typical schoolyard fights. Serious name calling or a fight until the bosses arrive to break things up. Though my boss is 6 hours away so that timing could be tricky…
So yes, I feel pretty good tonight and ready to tackle things head on. Day and a half is not too bad but I’m going to make it to three days.
So in my previous post a alluded to being stressed. For those interested in what I do I work with computers. Not in the cool “freaky cutting edge” stuff. No. I do the customer-facing stuff which is like having hundreds of people watching your every move and second guessing you. Which is a pain when you’re insecure about where you fit into the world.
I’m a transvestite you see. You won’t know it to look at me but I am. And I love it. Up to a point. When I get sexually charged by it my mind can go off in various different directions. My default preference is girls, but dolled up I prefer guys. So when I get wanking it all meshes together depending if I’m in a girly frame of mind or in a guy mood.
This morning I’ve been pretty good. I’ve signed into a Tgirl website that could be my undoing. But I am blogging here (that’s good) and I’m about to shut down my machine and put together some notes about a freaky dream I had in my writer’s notebook.
OK, it’s 6:14am here in the UK. No doubt the air outside still reeks of phosphorous following an explosive Bonfire night. I went for a walk last night to clear my head. Sure looked amazing out there, though I believe that fireworks reduce your surprise reflex to loud noises. Thank Christ in our neck of the woods (I live in a small coastal town, where very little goes on) loud noises like that are but twice a year. The other is New Years’, by the way.
So we’re on day two now. Let me give you some stats:
Hours Since Last Wank: 24 hours
Last Corrupting Influence: Only All Sites Picture Files / Transvestite Chatroom (logged in as a TV)
I’ll go into the TV/non-TV discussion another time. Right now, I know I’m only a day since my last self-pleasure and I already feel like caving. My main wake up routine is pretty benign. Get up, have breakfast, watch the news. No problem you say. Nothing pornographic or even erotic from that.
I love women in smart suits and heels. It’s one particular quirk I absolutely love. The quintessential ladies to send me spastic for some solo are:
Lucy Verasamy: Sexy weather girl on Daybreak.
Susanna Reid: BBC newspresenter
And finally, my number one temptation…
Sarah-Jane Mee from Sky. Gorgeous, feisty, cool but slightly geeky too she is an ideal women in my eyes. And she dresses so so well too, which is a huge plus.
OK, day one is nearly over. Stressful, not really. But with friends upcoming engagements and marriages on the horizons it hardly puts me in the best frame of mind. But that’s victim talk. I make weak decisions and live with the outcomes. And change is tough. So, I guess, the phrase “Suck it up” is one I’ll hear a lot in the coming months.
I’m a little drunk right now, I’m not going to lie. But whilst being horny is no surprise here the dark period is in the mornings. As the twilight shifts into the new day the urge is often unbearable. Morning wood waiting to be cut down. My mind equates the lack of a girl with me to cater that need with either surfing for, well, pretty shameful shit; or it means contacting my phone company and explain I want the call bar lifted on my mobile to enter a “competition”. I say a competition; I mean phone sex. Again, shameful shit. Humiliation, domination, cross-dressing, anything to fill a void. Most times I’m not even at a half mast. It all stems from the lack of human contact.
Oh yes, it’s pretty dark. But I share to make it known that this embarrassing shit is out there and if you read this and notice something you’ve done then it’s OK. Self destruction isn’t a bad thing in moderation. But as a lifestyle, it sucks ass.
Let me ask you something: how long have you gone without sex? A day? Month? Years? The last time I had full blown, sweaty, filthy sex was approximately six years ago. The whole night a session of jaw-lock and whiskey-soaked flaccidness. A disappointment all around. I don’t blame the girl, fuck no. The problem was a dark secret that I’m going to share within the anonymous confines of the Internet.
I have been wanking for nearly twenty years.
Yes, you read that right.
I can trace the root of my solo clarinet practice to many defining points in my life. Teenage bullying reducing me to a misanthropic totem rooting in disappointment and fear. No success with women shrivelling my ego like a plant staved of water. I am a walking cliché of psychological crutches that I cling to rather then casting them off in a triumphant Forest Gump style to run like the fucking wind.
If you met me and spoke to me, you’ll probably say “Seems like a good bloke”. I like music, art, films, can drink like a fiend but behave as a gentlemen to those around. But beyond the niceness, you’ll see me as a supporting player in the play of life. I’m not married, have no girlfriend and no children. As the song goes “I am a rock, I am an island.” But unlike the song, for a man in his early 30s, this is failure.
But now is a time to twist things around. My goal for this simple blog is to put together a document of my abandoning of the wanking lifestyle (and it is that) to try and break free of this life-long cycle. Also, I want this as a document for every guy who believes that masturbation is the answer. It isn’t. Men are not designed to live alone. Finally, every time I fail and engage in the action of “Shuffling Monkey” I shall detail what I did and how I jerked off. Will Rogers once said you should “Live in such a way that you would not be ashamed to sell your parrot to the town gossip.”