- Joined
- Nov 14, 2017
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- 315
Two things happened to me semi-recently. One, I made my first successful seduction! Yay! (Mini‑novel of a LR here.) And two, I couldnʼt get it up for the girl! (I was able to when she gave me head, but lost it almost as soon as she stopped.) This post is about that failure.
It was a perfect storm, brought on by a host of factors, some societyʼs doing, some my doing, and some just plain bad luck.
Unfortunately, as best as I can tell, this wasnʼt just a one-off. On all occasions thus far where a girl wanted it up, it hasnʼt happened. (Although admittedly in every case other than this one, I had huge reservations.) And it can be a little moody even in solo sessions (though it generally does work in that case, given adequate persistence).
Iʼm no stranger to pissy battles, so Iʼm sure Iʼll endure, but, man!
1. Probable Causes
First of all, things I donʼt think, or know werenʼt, at play:
- Physiological inability to sustain an erection. Alone, I can often keep an erection, for the most part pretty hard, for a good 45 minutes if Iʼm applying constant stimulation and intentionally holding back from climaxing. (Though it tends to be a little slow to rise, depending on the circumstances.)
- Poor condom fit, cutting off circulation, etc. I was using a brand of larger condom Iʼve tested a number of times in solo sessions, which fits snugly but doesnʼt put too much pressure on my dick. Iʼve been able to function normally with them on while penetrating a Fleshlight (sex toy), although the toy feels noticeably nicer without one on.
- Alcohol. I did have some, but it wasnʼt even enough to get a buzz off, and Iʼd had at least 9 h to break it down prior to this debacle.
- Pornography addiction. Iʼve barely looked at any in my life. The only times I have were accidental, being shown by friends, or researching sexual techniques. Iʼve never masturbated to it. I actually donʼt even understand its appeal!
Factors I do think probably contributed, in approximate order of descending significance:
- Having kept myself away from women sexually for so long, I probably havenʼt made the Pavlovian connection in my brain between a womanʼs body physically in front of me and sexual gratification. (A dog who has never been called to dinner by a bell will not salivate from the sound of a bell.)
(This is the brainwashing I allude to in this postʼs title. Because it is largely societyʼs having rammed my head full of idiotic ideals like monogamy and supplicating to women, that kept my dick lightyears away from pussy for half my life.)
- My being a victim of genital mutilation. (§ 2, § 3, § 4)
- Performance anxiety, which is a vicious cycle. Seeded by other factors.
- Having questionable testosterone. (§ 5)
- This girl not being one Iʼd be at all tempted to risk knocking up by not using a condom. (§ 6)
- While this occurred just after noon, I had been awake for over 25 hours; testosterone peaks around waking and falls off over the course of the day, so it stands to reason if you donʼt sleep it may just keep falling! It is perhaps important to note, however, that I wasnʼt actually tired, or at least certainly didnʼt feel it. Au contraire — I was bloody wired! I didnʼt end up sleeping until 2:16 a.m. the next morning!
- It had only been about 45 h since Iʼd last had release. (This was partly to account for a planned encounter with a hotter girl Iʼm willing to take raw, an African, on a slightly later date, and which did not happen.)
Itʼs easy to get really depressed over this dysfunction, thinking itʼs an omen of aging and failing health. I have to remind myself that my dick has always been strange this way; while itʼs more or less fine masturbating (but has over time gotten a little more fussy), it has actually never worked when a girl wanted it to.
When I was scarcely 20, and some friends dragged me to a strip club, it didnʼt get hard for a sexy black girl grinding her ass on it — which I attributed to a combination of tight underwear and a oneitis I had at the time. Later that same year or so, it also wouldnʼt show any love for a pair of Jamaican cuties ripping my clothes off, even though one managed to get a hand on my balls — though admittedly I hadnʼt intended it to either, thanks to a catastrophic oneitis that was at that time just taking hold and would keep me away from girls for the next fucking decade. (Fuuuuuck meeeeee, how did my sex life ever get sooooo fucked!!)
I think a lot of this failure to get it up for women comes down to #1 above, though #2 is also likely a huge factor, and #3 was a big factor, too. And possibly also #4, which could also have made me more greatly susceptible to societyʼs dysfunctional “beta male” program. Itʼs also conceivable said programming may have caused or exacerbated #4. Closer observation has also made me suspect #6 is more of a thing than Iʼd have thought.
(Thereʼs a bizarre alternate possibility. I spent almost a decade so obstinately devoted to the oneitis Dulcinea that I was determined to either take her and only her ever, or else die a virgin. I was over that phenomenally dumb idea a number of years ago now, but I almost have to wonder whether I somehow drove it into my subconscious, which is now still trying to protect me from violating that fateful pact. What would make that a particularly cruel irony is that there are women I now find considerably more attractive than Dulcinea. I donʼt think thatʼs whatʼs going on, but I had to put it out there.)
Several of the more probable co‑conspirators deserve further explanation:
2. Genital Mutilation
[Sorry to have to take yʼall down this rabbit hole, but this is an issue worthy of explanation, because it has negatively impacted not only my sexuality, but potentially that of perhaps over a billion other men. I want to be candid and honest about everything I experienced and learned from this lay, and this was no small part of it.]
I had my genitals mutilated when I was a small child. The more common term is “circumcised”, but I wonʼt use that term because it utterly fails to convey the senselessness of it. They cut off part of my dick. Of course, I was far too young to even suspect that this was some archaic religious‑rite-turned-profit‑machine for doctors and hospitals, who had somehow managed to pathologize my penis.
For much of my life, I thought little of it. My junk was a little different than (some of) the textbook pictures; O well what else is new. A few years ago I learned there were fringe groups vehemently opposed to the practice. I agreed with them in the same way as I agree with Princess Dianaʼs landmine thingie. Like, yea, it would be nice if there werenʼt landmines in X, Y, or Z country. What else is new. So I had gathered, the foreskin has potentially important roles in sexual function. That wasnʼt surprising; nature knows best. And yeah, Iʼd have preferred not to lose it if I could avoid it, but, too late, I couldnʼt. My dick still basically worked, and Iʼd never known it any other way. And at that time I was only using the damn thing to jerk off, anyway. So, yet another thing filed to my mindʼs trashbin of irrelevance.
But after what was supposed to be a gleeful shared reward for a year devoted to healing my asexuality instead became a shared disappointment, I needed answers.
And so I found myself, in a stoic daze, reading about how the foreskin interfaces with a womanʼs vulva, both stimulating her and sealing in her vaginal lubrication. About how it contains a distinct type of nerve ending more sensitive than anywhere else on the penis. About how stretch receptors in the foreskin are involved in the erection reflex. About how the glans is a mucous membrane — as much as mine doesnʼt look like one, — which the foreskin protects from desensitizing chronic abrasion.
About how (and why) the female partners of mutilated men are more likely to complain of vaginal dryness and painful sex, and are less likely to orgasm. Reading anecdotes from women accustomed to mutilated partners, blown away by intact partners. About how mutilated men are much more likely to eventually have sexual dysfunction (either E.D. or P.E.), and are over 4 ½ times more likely to use drugs like Viagra. And from men who had the procedure as adults and said it destroyed their sex life.
It was a little obfuscated by conflicting information from various medical authorities saying that removal of the foreskin does not cause any sexual dysfunction. But the studies they cite have methodological flaws. They often donʼt follow victims long enough to uncover gradual desensitization. In some cases theyʼve used the anatomy of a cut penis to drive the study design, as though this was anatomically normal — a telling bias. In at least one case, researchers even downright ignored their own data! Getting impartial answers on such a politicized topic and one whose popular understanding is so heavily biased by the establishment was challenging.
But I had some reason to doubt the establishment. Namely, my own body. When I looked at one of the more thorough comparative studies on penile sensation (with counter‑establishment findings, and typically overlooked or ignored by policy makers), I found it surprising that when they mapped out touch sensitivity, the most sensitive part of the mutilated penis was actually not the glans — as conventional wisdom holds, — but a little sliver of leftover foreskin tissue on the shaft around the site of the injury. Well, I had a mutilated model to verify this on myself. So, I put in the work (it shouldnʼt be work) to get it up, and carefully touched the various parts myself.
Fuck me, that little sliver was sensitive, and yes, a lot more than the glans. You mean to tell me that a significant fraction of the skin on my penis would have been that sensitive?? Itʼs like telling someone who has only ever seen the world through a black & white 320 x 240 webcam that they had actually been born with an ultra‑high resolution colour stereo‑optical system, but that someone had decided to surgically remove that because a webcam was fine.
At first I was a bit confused, because I still can enjoy masturbation. Yet, when the girl masturbated me, it didnʼt feel like much of anything. (A blowjob was a different story, though — that did feel good.) Iʼll hypothesize that in some way itʼs mental; that is, Iʼve trained myself to mentally amplify the otherwise minimal stimulation from masturbation, but in some manner such training doesnʼt carry over to someone else doing it.
As I think about it, it makes too much sense. I understand now why the girl was rubbing her ass on my crotch: she was trying to make me hard! This had been obvious intellectually, but at once I couldnʼt quite understand how she expected this to actually work. In my entire experience as a male, I have never known such contact to be a particularly efficient way of making me hard. As it turns out, there are two distinct pathways for producing waking erections: psychogenic and reflex.
The first one I knew about, because I get those. The second one caught my imagination. You mean, erection is a reflex!? Give a guyʼs dick a good smushing and itʼll get hard without him having to be in just the right state of mind?! This was news to me. But now I appreciate just what the girl was doing. On an intact male, it wouldʼve caused a sliding action between the smooth, moist mucosal surfaces of the glans and underside of the prepuce and likely been very stimulating. An intact male would probably have gotten hard off this even if he was nervous. It makes sense: if females had no way of arousing sexually naïve males, we might go extinct.
But in a mutilated male, the reflex pathway has been virtually destroyed. The girl may as well have been rubbing her bum on my arm. Sure, itʼs nice. But not instant hard‑on nice! I appreciate now that most of the erections Iʼve ever had in my life have probably been around 10% sensation and 90% mental — leaving me extremely vulnerable to performance anxiety.
3. A Huge Injustice
[This section contains my views on having been denied informed consent to a permanent alteration of my body. Feel free to skip it if you donʼt plan on doing this to anyone.]
Some time later, when it dawned on me what the girl was doing and why it didnʼt work, I started to cry. Iʼm so angry. I probably lost my first FwB to permanent damage that was done to me willfully. I actually remember lying in a hospital gurney with a teddy bear being told I was going to go to sleep, and then having a weird bandage on my dick. I of course didnʼt have any idea what was going on, but had I been given the understanding I had a human right to, Iʼd have jumped the gurney and torn up the hospital corridors. Itʼd have taken three people to restrain me.
I feel so violated. Because nobody even asked me if I wanted a perfectly healthy part of my body to be cut off, much less explained to me the implications thereof. Parental consent is meaningless, because my life is not theirs. I wish the law would have protected me in the way it would protect a little girl. My body is a permanent reminder that I do not have the same rights as a female.
(Itʼs worth mentioning, since weʼre here anyway, that I was one of the lucky ones. I was put unconscious, and nothing went wrong. Not all victims are that lucky. Some are not with us. On rare occasions it goes so bad the parents elect for a sex change. And at least until fairly recently, doctors routinely didnʼt bother to give anesthetic — it was presumed that newborns canʼt feel pain. In the words of one nurse, “So, I was stroking him and saying these [comforting] things, lying to him, really, because, when the doctor started to do the cutting, the baby opened his mouth and let out a scream I’d never heard come out of the mouth of a baby — and I had four children.” This was in 1979. Not 1879. 1979.)
Medicine broke its own sacred oath. Iʼm sure those doctors didnʼt understand that my foreskin had any real function. But thatʼs the whole reason behind, “first, do no harm.” If you donʼt understand what something is, donʼt fuck with it unless the patient has a clear and definite need for you to. At what point is such pompous arrogance instilled in them that they think they know better than millions of years of evolution how my body should be structured? Iʼd like to see those assholes create a human being from inorganic raw materials. I love science but these are not scientists. Real scientists are humbled by nature and appreciate the extent to which they donʼt fully understand it.
Outside of orthodox religious circles, genital mutilation was introduced into the mainstream developed world in the highly sex‑negative 1800ʼs as a way to “cure” masturbation. If you want to see just how perverse this obsession with discouraging sex got, have a look at this picture of a bizarre electrical machine designed to help parents stop their children from masturbating. At least the crotch alarm system fell by the wayside, but as for genital mutilation, they concocted various asinine medical excuses, with marginal or specious empirical support, so as to continue it even when overt negativity to sex fell out of favour.
(Of course, as we all here know, societyʼs stranglehold on human sexuality didnʼt really disappear, it just changed its character, like how wars have gone from being fought with tanks and guns to being fought with fake news and multinational corporations.)
First the pervasive sexually debilitating brainwashing, and now after half my life I finally start breaking free of that, only to suffer sexual dysfunction from the intentional mutilation of my genitals… I feel like Iʼm living in a world hellbent on keeping my sexuality muted!! (While ironically shoving other peoplesʼ sexuality in my face.)
4. Overcoming The Knife
How can I fix this?
Some guys have managed to use stretching to regrow a pseudo-foreskin, over a long time, with great persistence. Unfortunately, this does not regenerate the specialized cells, so itʼs only a partial fix. There is a stem‑cell-based approach in the works, and Iʼm very interested in that. But itʼs not out yet, and thanks to the establishment keeping this an under‑appreciated problem, itʼs not something that gets large-scale funding. (Medicine would just as soon get paid to cut someoneʼs dick, get paid for the foreskin tissue, and then get paid yet again when the victim eventually needs Viagra.)
There are E.D. drugs. I usually think of a Viagra user as a fat old fart with clogged arteries. What a depressing picture. I need to understand that, really, in my case itʼs just the health industry peddling a cure to a problem that they caused.
I almost wonder if I should just suck it up and use drugs, knowing that I have a legitimately damaged erectile system (the pipes are working, but the switch is missing). It wouldnʼt make me the fat old fart; just a victim of child abuse — totally not my fault. Perhaps just use them at first, to help me get some sexual confidence.
But they have some serious downsides. Most side effects are minor, but there is potential for permanent damage to other bodily systems. Depending on the particular drug, the spontaneity that is part of seduction may be trickier to manage (my preliminary research says Cialis is probably the least problematic that way due to a long half‑life). PDE5 inhibitors also still depend on the erection signaling pathways and so could potentially fail, particularly where the problem is stimulatory or psychogenic. There are other classes of drug that bypass that, but theyʼre more invasive.
But perhaps the biggest concern is that these drugs can produce psychological dependence; using them reinforces the belief that you need them, which worsens performance anxiety in their absence.
Tissue regeneration is my long-term hope, but in the meantime, the safest, albeit probably not most efficient, route is probably to try to work with what I have. My reflex erection mechanism was decimated by male genital mutilation, which means the best way I have to get an erection is the psychogenic mechanism. I have to try to strengthen that mechanism.
Iʼm not totally sure how to do that. Obviously I need to create a stronger mental association between being in a naked womanʼs presence and sexual release. I need to feel sexier around them. Unfortunately, itʼs hard feeling sexy when you canʼt get it up, so it becomes a vicious cycle. It is yet another enormous mental hurdle to have to take myself through, just as approaching women and escalating on women have been and could to a lesser degree still be.
Iʼm sure part of it is just having a sufficient supply of women in my bedroom. When the chance seems rare, the pressure is high. Having a steady supply of women could lower the pressure to perform with any given one, which in turn might ironically make it a lot easier to.
That means approaching women at at least an order of magnitude greater frequency than I do, and ideally more.
I have my doubts that I can do that in this country. Iʼve gone out to the mall a few times since the botched lay, to see if Iʼd be able to approach women much more frequently, now that I know theyʼre not that hard to lay. Unfortunately, my approach frequency hasnʼt really gone up. Black women are still only 10% of the women in the mall, and my brain still seems to — Iʼm guessing — go into scarcity mode from that and only lets me approach a little over one every 3 hours — even though I get a chance once every 15 minutes or less. Thatʼs been the case for the majority of 2018, so it seems to be a hard plateau.
Which brings me back yet again to the idea that I should go live in Africa, where they are not scarce at all. Being able to hit on 20 or 30 girls in a day instead of 2 or 3 would make an immense difference. I keep hesitating, because itʼs not entirely convenient, but thereʼs no escaping the fact that itʼs by far my best hope of getting good. It would also bring priceless life experience.
Another possibility is to hire an escort. Because with them, youʼre not really under any pressure. Your performance with her doesnʼt really matter — youʼre not seducing her either way. And if you paid her to stay over, youʼre not going to have her just get bored and leave. But you still get to make the mental connection between naked woman and sex. Iʼm rabidly staunch against the “men like us have to pay for sex” mentality, so with that plus the data point of just how easy it was for me to seduce a young woman, I doubt Iʼll ruin my mental model.
What does worry me is ruining my health, since HSV‑2 has no cure, is somewhat contagious, canʼt be blocked fully by condoms, and is sufficiently prevalent that most sex workers must have it. Thatʼs my main reason not to. Otherwise I suspect itʼd be helpful here. Of course, regular girls can have herpes, too, but itʼs gonna be super‑common in sex workers.
Now, part of the reason I (successfully) held out on fixing my total asexuality with an escort was not just the chance of getting HSV‑2, but how Iʼd have gotten it being particularly demoralizing. Now that Iʼm sexually active with normal girls, the demoralization aspect may not be so bad, since I donʼt necessarily even know I got it from the escort and not from the girl I picked up in the mall. Plus, the chance is not that high on one or two encounters — the discordant couple annual transmission rate is only around 10%.
(I donʼt even know how many seducers must have HSV‑2 and donʼt even know it. Itʼs asymptomatic in most people, and in many places itʼs not part of routine STI screening — probably for good reason.)
Maybe that is my best bet. Welllll, except for one little problem. I have a whoremonger friend who has tried hard to indoctrinate me with the idea that he and I are old and ugly and could only ever attract women using our wallets. He predicted, in spite of my defiance, that Iʼd go on to pay for sex, and when I told him hell to the fucking no, he smugly taunted, “Yeah, yeah. Thatʼs what all white guys say.” (Heʼs partly why Iʼm here. Iʼm itching to rub his nose in my success, lol.)
Plus, itʼs not entirely legal, although the chances of getting caught are quite small with due diligence, there are loopholes, and the laws are under constitutional challenges.
5. Testosterone
Itʼs a bit confusing.
About 6 years ago I had low testosterone and a specialist of sorts put me on a replacement gel. I used that for I guess a year or two, until various factors including the specialist disappearing led to my not keeping up with it.
Then, around 2 years ago, I had similar trouble in bed with a girl. I had some serious reservations in that encounter, though, so that was probably a normal, expected result. However, I was still concerned and figured low T may have contributed, so I went to my regular doctor and he gave me a prescription for the same gel and also had before and after tests done. The strange thing is, my before result was normal! Partly due to that, I didnʼt bother continuing with it.
Itʼs a little strange that my testosterone would be so inconsistent, although that would be in line with my own observation that my horniness waxes and wanes over periods of weeks or months, partly depending on my own mental outlook towards, and experiences with, women at the time.
There were some significant differences in my overall mental disposition between 6 years ago and 2 years ago, with the former having been a bit of a low point in several respects. It is well‑documented that testosterone has an impact on mental function and emotion, but thereʼs some suggestion it can be affected by them, too. That would seem to fit my own observations.
Come to think of it, this recent lay came at a time when I had basically closed down shop towards girls here in my city, shifting my attention to planning out the move to Africa. I wasnʼt expecting to get laid until after several months of planning and preparations and setting up shop in Kampala or Nairobi. I wonder if that had an effect.
I kind of suspect my testosterone would probably go up if I were smashing girls on the regular. But thatʼs a bit of a Catch‑22!
To complicate matters, the lab screwed up on the more recent test, and took total testosterone when the requisition was for free testosterone. I believe free T is more significant, so I should probably take that more recent “normal” finding with a grain of salt and get it checked again. Yet another confusing factor is that, so Iʼve read, the reference ranges most labs use for testosterone are actually pretty low in terms of optimal health. There were also confusing order-of-magnitude inconsistencies in the free T reference ranges listed on my older and newer tests. I am constantly having to question the scientific validity of the medical profession!
Anyway, I could likely get back on TRT easily if I want to. This time, I would try to get the patch, since you have to wash the gel off before contact with a woman, which has multiple obvious drawbacks.
Now, itʼs often said that low testosterone impacts only interest in sex, not erectile function. But Iʼve also seen it claimed that it can affect erections. It seems a little equivocal.
When I was on the gel, I did get more or less spontaneous erections more often, but I vaguely recall that they werenʼt always easier on demand, although TBH itʼs not something I monitored closely.
On paying more attention to it, Iʼve noticed a tendency that not always, but very often, early in my day, unintended psychogenic erections are much more likely, and itʼs also easier to intentionally both get and keep an erection indefinitely, and that conversely, I have the greatest trouble with erections later in my day. Surprisingly, the effect is possibly even stronger than the effect of how recently Iʼve had release. If I go some days without release, then masturbate to orgasm before sleeping, then try again a half hour after getting up, I may almost paradoxically have an easier and stronger boner the second time around even though it wasnʼt even half a day later.
Testosterone level follows a diurnal pattern, so all this would seem to suggest that at least for me, testosterone does have a significant effect on ease of getting erections — a useful observation in considering treatments.
“Interest in sex” is also a deceptive term. I think itʼs not a singular phenomenon, but something that happens independently on different mental levels. So, for instance, this novel experience of actually having a cute black girl decide to get naked for me definitely corresponded (both causally and reactively) with “interest in sex” on a high or “intellectual” level. However, it could be said that I probably wasnʼt “in the mood” on some lower level — thus, paradoxically, there may have also been an absence of “interest in sex”. This isnʼt something Iʼd have been very consciously attuned to, due to the novelness of the opportunity.
Considering that due to genital mutilation my erectile triggers are quite likely 90% psychological, a testosterone-mediated lack of low‑level “interest” could well have been part of the problem.
So, testosterone replacement could be part of the solution. Unfortunately, it has some drawbacks, the most important being:
- Increased risk of cardiovascular problems; and,
- The body will respond to it by downregulating endogenous testosterone production, which could cause various problems, in particular infertility that is typically but not always reversible.
I will first need to do further research as to whether there is a way to instead boost endogenous testosterone. Iʼve heard of dietary/herbal stuff, but I need hard data or I donʼt believe it. (The internet and other such spaces are teeming with quackery, with this or that herb or fruit or supplement that cures everything, stops all wars, and repels Martians.) A more compelling approach would be to use a drug that targets an earlier point on the HPG axis, which in theory could stimulate endogenous testosterone production. As an added bonus, it might not be a gel or patch.
Great. More research. I feel like my existence revolves around researching dumb shit. LOL.
6. Contraception
The condoms didnʼt help.
Not due to loss of sensation. I didnʼt even really get that far.
Partly it was the unsexiness of fumbling with it (done in the worst possible way, for a rather phobic reason; see the LR).
But there was also a certain loss of excitement for me just from (i) being conscious of our using contraception, and (ii) her being below the (really picky) quality Iʼd allow significant risk of parenthood with.
I find the thought of knocking up a beautiful black girl somehow extremely arousing. When Iʼve done my approaches to earn my time with pics of one of those gorgeous Dinka or Nuer or Kikuyu models, the ensuing fantasies are not of sterile, condomed sex. Iʼll almost invariably pretend Iʼm about to make her pregnant. Iʼd even tell her Iʼm about to pump her wet hole so full of my semen sheʼs going to have 10 of my beautiful mix babies. (Wait... doesnʼt she need to release 10 eggs for that? lol) I suppose itʼs at once very crazy and very natural.
But Iʼm not living in prehistory, so of course I canʼt be leaving a trail of babies. That makes me a lot pickier about women I would or wouldnʼt knock up. (Which is not ideal psychologically. Game would be much easier to learn if I were in “blast away in every pussy in my path” mode. LOL.)
This girl not being one of those tall, (usually very) dark and utterly perfect African beauties I might actually be willing to potentially knock up, I wasnʼt about to throw caution to the wind. But the sexier knocking up a girl is, the more un‑sexy not knocking one up becomes. I think on some level, my libido was like, “What? You mean Iʼm not gonna pump this girl full of my sperm until she conceives? How boring.”
Appreciating how women are biologically attracted to men who make lots & lots of babies is a double‑edged sword. On one hand, I really think it helped me get oneʼs clothes off! (When you know the “why” behind advice like moving faster, it sticks better.) On the other hand, it also kind of put me in touch with the part of my lizard brain tasked with making lots & lots of babies! But the latter throws my mind into a tricky balance of conflicting imperatives.
It doesnʼt help that I actually do want a child with one of those aforementioned tall, dark honeys.
I wonder, though, if I had a few little rascals to look after already, if my brain would still be wired to look at sex and women so pro‑reproductively!
I used to wonder a bit about those dudes with like 14 kids by six different babymammas. Like, didnʼt they know about birth control? LOL! But I can actually almost understand!
Had this been one of those African beauties Iʼd have been willing to make natural love with, knowing it could make her the mother of my child, I suspect Iʼd have performed far better.
7. Things I Could Have Tried (In The Moment)
- Go raw. No condom interruption, and probably wouldnʼt have to be completely stiff to penetrate or at least get some stimulation off her vulva, whichʼd probably be sexy enough to get harder. And enough stimulation plus psychological thrill to more than likely stay hard once inside.
But I have really high standards for taking any pregnancy risk. Iʼd only stick my dick in about 8 ~ 9% of the worldʼs fertile women (or around 4.5% in my city) even with a condom. To her credit, she was within that 8 ~ 9%. I couldʼve pulled out, put a condom on later into the act, and/or asked her if she was on birth control. But she wasnʼt within the maybe ~2% globally with whom Iʼd be willing to take the risk that I lose control or she lies about birth control. (Or the perhaps 0.1 ~ 0.2% Iʼd be willing to blast away in just the once, or ≤ 0.004% repeatedly.)
- Katchabali. Itʼs a Ugandan sex technique where you rub the frenulum and the ventral surface of the glans penis on her prepuce and clitoris. (And if sheʼs Ugandan, she squirts, lol, or so Iʼve read.) Decent chance thatʼd have gotten me hard. But thereʼs STI risk, and youʼre teasingly close to just saying “what the hell” and going in raw — but see above.
- In the stress of this calamity, I totally forgot that I actually have female condoms, too. That may have worked better, since you donʼt have to fuck with putting the condom on once you get hard (you can put the condom into her in advance), and you donʼt really need to even be fully hard to start trying to penetrate. Iʼd quite possibly have stiffened back up once weʼre starting to “do it”. lol.
The only problem is, at least with the brand I have, the outer ring that holds the distal end in place at the vulva is flexible (IMO a poor design which seems to have been motivated mainly by package dimensions), and in my alone‑time testing with a Fleshlight (not anatomically accurate, but likely close enough for this test), I found that unless you keep the thrusts pretty gentle, thereʼs a significant chance of the distal end slipping right into the vagina, unless someone holds it in place. This girl isnʼt one Iʼd take any significant risk of impregnating, so it wasnʼt an ideal option.
- Talk dirty, or act really dirty and aggressive and dominant. I was pretty tame. Being dirtier might have been more psychologically arousing, though Iʼm not certain. Unfortunately, it would have felt kind of incongruent to be acting all dominant with a wilted penis… LOL.
- Slow down, savour the girl, and let the erection come on its own, as opposed to stressing out that, “Oh my God, I have to get it up now!”
The girl didnʼt help that any, as she seemed to want it up. In retrospect, I ought to have just confidently taken charge and told her to slow down, — with the added benefit of being a chase frame! — rather than let it stress me out worrying about what sheʼll think or that sheʼll get bored and leave.
- Get to seducing her quicker, before testosterone is at a daily low. Especially given that I canʼt sleep in a girlʼs presence!
8. Action Plan
Seduction is useless when I canʼt perform, so that badly needs to be addressed.
My plan now, open † to suggestions, is, more or less:
- Have my doctor do a full work-up to rule out any systemic causes of E.D.
- Resist any suggestion to try E.D. drugs unless there is first hard evidence of a physiological cause. While not routine, there are tests that can specifically identify plumbing issues; push for that before using drugs. (Although the raging boners Iʼll get under just the right conditions probably rule out plumbing.) This is justifiable given that the use of E.D. drugs in psychogenic cases only makes the psychological problem much worse, and exposes the patient to needless health risks.
- Have my free testosterone tested, both at the beginning and (especially) end of my day. If itʼs low, then start by looking for ways to increase it endogenously. Use testing to determine whether any such method is actually working.
- Only consider testosterone replacement if no means is available for stimulating its endogenous production. Monitor fertility, and discontinue TRT on any significant degradation.
- Continue to research, plan, and prepare business activities for the “indefinite vacation” to Africa, probably Uganda or Kenya. Because living there would make approaches and seductions so much more expendable! Black women are not rare here, but theyʼre enough of a minority that I suspect it makes it harder to put my brain into a state conducive to seduction. I suspect having ten times more of them — and cuter ones, at that, — would really help with opening up more and being more relaxed instead of being in this uptight, “shit, I better not screw this one up” mode.
- Give Tinder a quick crap shoot. Just in case I find it more workable than trying to fight tons of approach anxiety trying to day game a minority. I hate just about everything about on‑line game, but given the expense of Africa, I do need to at least check out other options, in parallel with the Africa preps.
- Keep an open mind to practicing sex with an escort; because, again, it gets rid of the “shit, I better not screw this one up” element. (Just, for the love of God, donʼt do it in Africa!) If it comes down to this, use carrageenan, and if I still get herpes, blame it on my parentsʼ dumb decision to cut half my dick off.
- Forget my buddyʼs ignorant “thatʼs what all white guys say” remark. What his remark really meant is that Iʼm some fat middle‑aged slob that no attractive girl would ever want to fuck unless it was about money. (BTW, Iʼm not even remotely fat; he, however, is quite chubby.) Realistically, heʼs just trying to anesthetize the pain of his uselessness to women by trying to justify that all his peers are in the same boat heʼs in. I should not allow his ignorance to affect decisions regarding my own sexual well‑being. Having banged an escort once or twice to help knock out a mental hang‑up in no way proves his underlying assertion, especially when Iʼm actually seducing cute girls. Fuck him. lol.
- Keep an eye on the progress of foreskin regeneration R & D.
God, what a nightmare. Itʼs always something else! LOL
Anyone think I could sue the hospital for recommending a needless procedure that fucked up my sex life??
__________
† Subject to the usual condition that hitting on non-black women is just not gonna happen.
