What I learned from giving up porn - or at least trying to.

(Originally posted on http://www.medium.com on 10th Nov 2016)

TL,DR; it’s hard, in more ways than one.

About four months ago I found myself in a sexual rut. I had finally vowed to stop sleeping with my manipulative ex-girlfriend, a guilt and self hatred ridden pleasure that had gone on for the last two years (not including the two years we had been dating). I had just been turned down for sex by a girl who I thought was giving me every kind of positive signal imaginable, but I’d somehow read the situation catastrophically wrong. And we all know that when 21 year old males aren’t getting laid, they’re watching porn, and a lot of it at that.

I don’t really remember when I was first exposed to porn, but it was certainly young, likely 12 or 13. It wasn’t a case of starting slowly either; I distinctly remember a classmate of mine showing me a hardcore site and being just as intrigued by seeing a full grown man’s (huge) erect penis as I was at the sight of a totally naked woman. I was part of the glorious Goldilocks generation of young kids looking at online porn —we had the technology to have unfiltered internet access, but it hadn’t yet been around long enough for my parents to realise what was going on.

And so that was that — down the rabbit hole I went — until 9 years later I found myself only having terrible, anxiety-plagued sex, just to fill my urge to get off. Once I finally managed to start thinking with my brain, not my dick, and cut it off with my ex, I realised that something needed to change if I wanted to have fulfilling, mutually enjoyable sexual experiences in the future. On one of the podcasts I regularly watch, two separate guests had talked about cutting out porn, saying that it changed their lives for the better; that they had better sex and healthier relationships because of it.

I already knew that sex in real life is nothing like it was in porn (I’d orgasmed in under 30 seconds enough times to figure that one out pretty quickly… if only porn showed you how to do that awkward, kill-me-now-embarrassed apology afterwards). I didn’t see myself as being naive about sex in that way — I understood that good communication was the key to good sex, that breasts and bodies come in all shapes and sizes, and that girls don’t actually like it when you cum in their hair. So what did I stand to gain from giving up porn? I understood that it was just a tool for me to ease my natural urges, not to educate me on the art of intercourse.

The answer is of course that I had conditioned myself to get off to naked women on a screen, that I was desensitised to them and even if I knew consciously that sex was not like porn, my subconscious (and my penis) couldn’t tell the difference. I wanted to learn to appreciate sex for the magical, heart pounding experience it should be; to see my partners’ bodies for the inherent beauty they possessed; to be able to enjoy the moment, instead of wondering whether she would prefer the Italian chandelier instead (look it up, it’s the one in all the movies). So I decided to go cold turkey, no more porn, sign me up for a one-way ticket to sexual nirvana please.

Obviously it didn’t work like that.

From my experience, giving up porn is difficult for three main reasons (Mum, if you have made it this far in, it is about to get worse, so I strongly suggest you consider whether or not you want to read on).

I’ve watch a lot of porn, I’ve been indulging in it multiple times a day for years at this point. Spare ten minutes between cleaning my teeth and going to work? New incognito tab, straight to Pornhub. Rough day at the office and got time before dinner? I wonder if Piper Perri has released any new videos recently. Trouble trying to sleep and need a hormone dump? I know Mia Khalifa has retired, but her stuff is still gold… you get the idea. Like any habit that you have been conditioned into, breaking it requires willpower and persistence.

Secondly, when you are just using your imagination, the five knuckle shuffle takes far longer, rather than a < 5 minute stress buster if you break out the personal favourites saved in the bowels of your hard drive. It becomes 15 minutes minimum, I have to schedule it into my busy day, and if I “get the urge” while trying to be productive, I can no longer take a quick study break — I have to try and hold off until later.

Most importantly, even if you actively try to give up porn, it’s a slippery slope as to what you will and will not allow yourself to consume on the internet. Everyone knows sexual imagery is abundant on social media, but once you try to avoid straight up porn, you truly begin to appreciate how blurred some of the lines are. I obviously can’t watch a video of a guy boning a girl — that’s porn. And I can’t watch a video of a girl getting naked and doing her thing either — that’s porn too. A girl just getting naked, a la Playboy? Porn. Just topless — still probably porn. But then it gets complicated… what if there are no nipples involved, but the image is still clearly sexualised? Is that where we draw the line on what porn is? Because that is all over Instagram and wholly unavoidable for any avid social media user. But I think those kinds of images still perpetuate the same sexual issues I was trying to rid myself of in the first place. So what about someone like Jessica Nigri, a cosplayer with a huge social media following? If anyone asked I would tell them I follow her because of her involvement in the gaming world, but let’s be honest, in reality it’s because of her massive, errr, tracts of land. If that counts as porn, what about one of my best friends, an avid pole fitness enthusiast, who regularly makes posts of her on the pole not wearing all that much more than Miss Nigri, although there is no sexual undertone whatsoever. Am I providing the sexual undertone? Has porn done that to me? Am I objectifying women? Is it porn’s fault? Social media’s? Should I delete my IG, twitter and facebook? Am I just intrinsically a disgusting human being?

Time for a deep breath…

The answer to a lot of the questions raised above is that I don’t really know, I haven’t figured it out yet. I haven’t managed to cut out porn completely, possibly because I don’t have the willpower or because I am not making it a high enough priority in my life right now. I haven’t had sex since the last time I saw my ex, several months ago now, and while I expect that if I were to have sex in the immediate future, it would be better, I know it would still not be as transcendent an experience as I would hope for. But the difference is that now, I am at least aware of the effect that porn is having on me. I am no longer bound to it, we have a healthier relationship and not one of shame and guilt. That would be my advice to anyone reading this — educate yourself on pornography. Read about why it might be having a negative effect on you, and read about the positive effects it can also have. Re-evaluate your relationship with it to see whether it is part of a healthy sexual diet for you, and if it isn’t, work out what you can do to change that.