I Grew up on Web Porn

I spent my teenage years masturbating
to web porn. Even now [I’m in my twenties] sex
fantasies are rooted in my 14-year-old mind.

Has Web Porn
Warped Me?

I worry internet porn has forever warped my sexual development. I mean, if it’s playing on loop in my head, can I ever really stop “watching” porn?

I’ve had several long-term relationships, read some Foucault and even had a chance to experiment a bit with kinkier sex. What helped the most was talking to friends, particularly women, who have had a similar upbringing.

I’m trying to reprogram myself, unlearn my socialized sexuality. But that’s left me very confused. I mean, what am I really trying to do? Discover my “natural” sexual attraction?

Sexiness is always constructed. Is there an alternative to the socialized, porn-inspired sexiness that I’m seeking?

What I really need to dot is dislodge disgrace, guilt and addictive perversity from the part of my brain that controls arousal.

I think kinky sex is wonderful. It acknowledges how shame, domination and weirdness truly pervade sexuality. But, I want to be able to explore kink not be resigned to it.

I’m grateful for my generation’s embrace of sexual liberation, but this feels more like a cage.

I feel estranged from my sexuality, like it’s somebody else’s. I want to reclaim my sexual desires. I’m not attempting to perform conversion therapy on myself to rid myself of the demons of my porno past.

I’m trying to go back to 2001 and take away the computer and figure out what feels good through honest sensual exploration.

I lie in the bathtub and let the warm water rise around my thighs. My exposed parts feel unduly detected, like they know they’re the center of attention. I close my eyes and touch.

Chest, stomach, hips — hair, neck, shoulders. Once I get to my penis, the discrepancy in sensitivity is startling. Rather than restraining fantasies, or intentionally focusing on them to get off, I try my best to be mesmerized by the touch.

I can get off without thinking of anything “shameful” or pornographic, but it’s not as much fun. It physically doesn’t feel as good. Should I just resign myself to replaying MILFs with whips and chains in my head as I fuck someone I’ll never find sexy?

Maybe I can find a cougar I can love or a partner who can convincingly role-play? Or should I keep exploring my body and hope that the pollution of XXX videos slowly clears from my masturbatory fantasies to reveal more dream-like, meditative, present, fleshy, alive states of mind and body?