nofap

NoFap is Impossible; or, Porn is Satan

I got wasted Thursday night. One single Left Hand Milk Stout turned into two, which turned into a run to the liquor store, which turned into chugging artisan beer that’s 13.5% alcohol, which turned into a midnight run to Denny’s where I somehow managed to get my waitress’s number and have a brief text exchange before scaring her off permanently.

I woke up Friday and of course I was hungover. You know what sounds like a good idea when you’re hungover? Porn. You know what’s diminished when you’re hungover? Willpower. You see where this is going. An innocent, “I’ll just look at a couple tumblr pages of girls with big asses” suddenly turned into a marathon session of skimming through HD video after HD video. I was a rat in a cage, eagerly pressing the lever to get another shot of dopamine.

NoFap requires constant vigilance. Booze reduces your willpower. If you strike out at the bar, it’s a lot easier to justify jerking one out before bed. At the same time, even if you do make it through the night, nothing alleviates a hangover like a good old fashioned marathon fap session.

This is why I now try to avoid booze as often as possible. NoFap is hard enough when you’re sober. If you’ve been drinking, it’s nearly impossible.

My NoFap journey began on August 27, 2012. Supposedly, if you make it 90 whole days without PMO (porn, masturbation, and orgasm), you become superhuman and your pheromones smell like Armani cologne and cute girls will practically be ripping your pants off for a shot at riding your glorious cock. You gain 20 pounds of muscle without going to the gym, and your IQ skyrockets up to 165. For a full list of benefits, see here.

Naturally, I was intrigued. I have suffered from social anxiety for well over a decade, and the notion that the debilitating disorder could be cured from a few months’ worth of abstinence from pornography was alluring. “No more porn,” I told myself.

Yeah, right.

I still haven’t made it to 90 days on my NoFap journey. My personal best was 42 days. When 2014 rolled around, I promised I would make it the full 90 days. I planned to have more than 100 days under my belt when spring finals arrived. By that point, the superpowers would kick in and I’d have a photographic memory for exams. That lasted 27 days. I got an earache and decided the only thing that would alleviate the pain would be to watch Jada Stevens getting her ass stretched out. I lasted about 30 seconds. Then, regret.

I have this app on my phone called Your Chain!, which counts the number of consecutive days you’ve done whatever your goal is. The theory is that it gets you psychologically invested. It’s hard to “break the chain” when you know you’ll have to look at that ugly blank square in a sea of Xs. Today would be 49. Except it’s zero, because once you fuck up a streak, you might as well go all in. You can always start . . . tomorrow.

Fight the good fight. Avoid booze if you can, or at least cut back on drinking. Do not rationalize fapping, no matter how enticing it sounds. Finally, if you are keeping track of your NoFap streak (and you should be), don’t get discouraged by a temporary setback. You will be inclined to use your “blank square” as justification to take a few days off and jerk your brains out. Don’t do that, as it will only hamper your progress.

Good luck.

Update: click here to read my post, “The Problem With Porn.”

3 responses... add one

>Supposedly, if you make it 90 whole days without PMO (porn, masturbation, and orgasm–all three together, from my understanding), you become superhuman and your pheromones smell like Armani cologne and cute girls will practically be ripping your pants off for a shot at riding your glorious cock. You gain 20 pounds of muscle without going to the gym, and your IQ skyrockets up to 165.

I could read this shit all day.

Thank you. Hearing that others enjoy my lines (or at least some of them) is inspiration to keep going.

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