Why I Quit Masturbation

I discovered masturbation when I was 14 years old. I am now 25. I have never had sex, and recently I have made an oath that I will not release another drop of semen unless it is within the vaginal walls of a woman. So far, it has been more than one week since this writing, and I am successful.

Before this pledge, I would ejaculate anywhere from once or twice, maybe three times a week. Thousands of times have I spent my seed upon the bed sheets, followed by a dull sense of hopelessness and shame. But no more.

Fortunately, pornography was never an intense addiction. I merely viewed pornography for several minutes, or I spent an hour once a week just searching through hundreds of Google pages for the perfect video to stimulate my senses. My choice sexual positions and acts were also relatively narrow and conventional. Two girls, one cup? Spare me, please.

No, my poison of choice was online dating. I’ve deleted all of the dating and hook-up apps on my smartphone. They yielded nothing but false hopes, embarrassing dates and painful rejections. I think that online dating is its own unique form of masturbation. As costly to one’s time, energy and money as a gambling addiction.PornTube is child’s play compared to the playground of real, living women waiting on POF or OKCupid.

This is by no means the first attempt I have made to cease masturbation. I have been trying to stop ever since I was first hooked. As a grown man, masturbation has become more of a tedious habit that I’ve taken for granted rather than the addicting high. At first I believed such a state was progress being made, but it is regression — the final stage of utter defeatism and apathy. Not just in my sex life, but everything else, too.

At the behest of a friend who is much farther along the Path to Purity than I — more than two years — I will attempt once more to break free. This time, I will devote myself to a written chronicle of my progress toward perfect celibacy, a brain free from the chains of the Orgasm. This time, a great cloud of witnesses will be watching me.

I gravely regret that I have remained in the adolescent stage of masturbation for this long. I feel deeply insecure for falling so far behind, while all other men in the world are romantically bound and filling their happy wives with their seed. What better time to start, than now?

By forgoing fappery, it will hone my emotional and psychological energy. When I am not distracted by the singing siren of sex, I want my narrative voice to sharpen, my creative flare to spark. My writing will be better, the more that I stew in the agitation of this lonely reality — not constantly retreating back into the harem of my sexual imagination. I will be committing myself to an act known as Sex Transmutation — the practice of channeling one’s sexual energies from the lowly physical to the higher intellectual and emotional parts of one’s being.

Napoleon Hill, in his book “Think, And Grow Rich” elaborates upon the profound mystery of sex transmutation in the eleventh chapter:

“When driven by this desire, men develop keenness of imagination, courage, will-power, persistence, and creative ability unknown to them at other times. So strong and impelling is the desire for sexual contact that men freely run the risk of life and reputation to indulge it. When harnessed, and redirected along other lines, this motivating force maintains all of its attributes of keenness of imagination, courage, etc., which may be used as powerful creative forces in literature, art, or in any other profession or calling, including, of course, the accumulation of riches“ (“Think and Grow Rich,” Napoleon Hill, pg. 261).

I believe that, by blocking the faucet of masculinity, it will stream back into his being, grow into a bright critical mass, a “superpower” of sorts. But this trial will be an utter waste if I cannot actually liberate myself from my sexual desire. It will amount to little more than secretive masochism unless I can commit my energy and focus from useless sex to a purposeful, revolutionary mission. Instead of messaging silent women online for hours, I will read a book. Instead of getting off to pornography for twenty minutes, that will be more time I spend writing. My chances of finding a partner only decrease from minimal to absolute zero.

The power and strength of one’s masculinity is spent when he releases his seed. In that respect, we men are like the praying mantis or the spider — after he has mated with the female, his biological function is complete and is useless save as food for the female. But if the male mantis can withstand his natural urge and forsake the female, she will never eat him, and she will starve. But the man remains immortal!

“Fortunate, indeed, is the person who has discovered how to give sex emotion an outlet through some form of creative effort, for he has, by that discovery, lifted himself to the status of a genius.“

Is it hyperbolic to wish that I will, by defeating the sexual urge once and for all, ascend to the level of a genius? I believe it is possible, and I will find out soon enough.

Follow me, and you will, too.

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Reference:

http://www.sacred-texts.com/nth/tgr/tgr16.htm “The Mystery of Sex Transmutation” Napoleon Hill

The Feminine Soul: Confessions of a 20-Something Loser

 

This is a guest post. It is not my original work. The author will remain anonymous for the sake of confidentiality.

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I was never like other boys my age when I was growing up. Whereas they were always
roughhousing and playing around in the dirt, playing sports and other competitions of physical strength, I was the weird, sensitive kid, who was drawing pictures or playing the piano or setting up armies of Lego men in the grass to write stories about. Without a doubt, I stood out, not for my inability to be social, but for my striking contrast in how I socialized.

This difference continued until about 14, when the pressures of adolescence and
hormones took over my life. The nature of the game changed, and it changed in a big way.

Odyssey’s Political Poll Shows Millennials Are Over-Educated Idiots

The survey, conducted by the Odyssey and UMass Lowell, confirms that Millennials are widely irrational and driven by emotions, rather than pragmatism.

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We commonly hold to the idea that conservatives are stupid, backwoods-dwelling, incest-bred, bigoted, racist, sexist neo-Luddites, while Liberals are cultured, erudite, pedantic and open-minded scholars. Libertarians? They’re just crazy.

Truth is, liberals are really, really stupid.

A new poll taken by Odyssey proves it. The survey covered more than 1,400 people within the ages of 18-35, AKA “the Millennials.” Millennials as a demographic group make up 26.2 percent of the United States population, or 82 million people. According to the Educational Test Service, “This generation of American workers and citizens will largely determine the shape of the American economic and social landscape of the future.” If one thing is for sure, it’s that this generation is super-duper liberal.

Oh snap.

How The Discrimination Against Short Men Is Perpetuated By Women

Photo: NY Post, Shuttershock

I’ve had so many conversations with girls that go something like this:

“Get real! Guys have it SO-O-O easy. They don’t have to spend two hours in front of the mirror putting on make up, just to be considered sexually attractive. Why do you have to judge us based on the way a girl looks? Why do you want us only for SEX? I’m more than just my body!”

So it would seem that women once again find a new way to set themselves as the victim class, thus earn the precious pity that purchases for them their power. Feminism seeks to absolve women of the act of sexual objectification and retain women as the pure, righteous judges of a man’s character rather than base animal lust. It is the popular notion that, while a man will fall for the woman with the best body, women will fall for the man who treats them the best — a nice guy, her best friend, someone who drapes his coat over every puddle so she can walk without getting her feet wet.

HA.

Oh. That’s a good one.

Women are just as capable — perhaps even more so — of objectifying men.

Are Sexual Favors In The Workplace Discrimination Against Men?

 

Today, I dated a feminist.

On our date, she explained her experience of being sexually discriminated against at her workplace. Her boss, a man, only gives attention and promotions to the young, attractive 20-year-olds. She also had a slice of his favor, but once she gained a little weight, the boss ignored her, neglected to promote her and has left her to pick up everyone else’s slack.

At first, feminism’s plight appears so blatantly obvious that it’s embarrassing to even admit that you’re an anti-feminist. How can anyone argue that discrimination against women “just ain’t what it used to be,” when it’s clearly so omnipresent?

The Celabrin

Art by Alisia Glasier

I shall march through the harem of finite flesh,
With eyes affixed on the eternal spark.
I shall tear free from the chains of desire,
To guide the lost from the carnal dark.
I shall catch the poison arrows of lust,
And break them upon my frozen heart.
I am the one, blessed by the angels bright.
I am Celabrin, chosen for deeds of the Light.
— The Purity Oath, from The Annals Of Celabrin

Ozmer Kalabaster hardly wielded the magical finesse to remove a splinter, and yet here he found himself – the young prince of Amoria lay dying on this stone slab, while the entire empire gazed upon him with bated breath for his miraculous healing.

He was a man with chalk-white skin draped in glimmering blue saffron, a graduate of the Celabrin Academy. His head was shaven, and between his brows was branded the mark of celibacy — a circle with a point at its center, symbolizing the symmetry of mind untainted by carnal cravings required to tap into the magical void. His virginity followed him wherever he went, and her name was Mae. If he ever lost her, magic would forsake him forever.

He recalibrated his retinas to the magical spectrum. A dark cloud of Eroma seethed upon the boy’s body, a smoke of passion’s fire kindled from his groin and suffocating his brain. It was sexual residue of godlike proportions — humans were unharmed and constantly craved the bare amounts they exchanged in coitus, but in all his studies, he had never seen this magnitude of Eroma. Not since he had declared the Purity Oath. It could only have begotten from a creature not human, a creature utterly sexual.

Love sickness, Ozmer thought gravely. Such a terrible way to die.