(By the way, I hate blog cross-pollination, so I’ll try not to bring my rants into my workout logs, but this incident was because of this diet, so it’s OK.)
I’m perfectly healthy, I’m 21, she’s sexy and all over me. Why isn’t my dick working?
“It’s like I have limp-dick-itis, or something” -Johnny Utah, Newgrounds contributor.
It’s intensely embarrassing, and you don’t know when it’s going to happen. Suddenly, your dick stops working. Due to 4 years with an un-satisfiable ex-fiance, I’m multi-orgasmic, can go on for hours, and come out of the bedroom to the sound of applause usually. I enter with a cape. There has been no one that I’ve bedded that hasn’t thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Until now.
She doesn’t say a word, just grinding and pushing and trying everything to get it up that doesn’t morally degrade her. Honestly, I could say I’m embarrassed, but that would be an over simplification. I’m mortified. The same kinda thing happened to me when I tried to screw that chick from A School, except for a second then, I was ready to go. I just lost it because she wasn’t giving anything back. You know, sexing at attention? Warm-corpse fucking?
I’m going to be perfectly honest. Unless a girl outwardly just turns me on, I mean everything she does is sexual, then I usually don’t start my seduction routine with a Woody Nelson. Instead over time I slowly gain one as the competition heats up, or I grind one out on the bed while she’s too busy getting eaten to notice.
Even when my ex fiance of several years would be missing for a day or 2, I often would watch a little porn or jerk off, then I’d be bald and impotent by her next visit. There was a lot of sexual things about my ex, and she managed to deal with me every time. I need a combination of senses to come together in order to pull me into the sexual experience. I’m mostly all about the girl.
“What’s the use if I can’t just… stab my wife in the vagina to prove I love her?!” -Johnny Utah
I kiss the neck, make out, pull up the shirt, get the nipples, move down the body, take off the pants and underwear, tease, feast, give the first orgasm, blah blah blah. It’s a process perfected over 4 years. Sex as routine: That’s my sex life. Sometimes the flow is interrupted. Sometimes they mouth my genitals first, sometimes they don’t want me to mouth them, sometimes I accidentally sit on her rubber fist, anything can happen. It’s a terrible process, simply because the fact that it is a process. Sex is all ins and outs to me, based entirely on the girl. Girls can tell when you’ve given up on their pleasure and started going for yours. You stop being creative, just thrusting and grunting angrily. It’s weird.
“What’s the use of a hot bod when he can’t even get it up?” -My own mother
The truth is, those with exceptionally low body fat aren’t good lays. A six pack may turn you on, but if that’s all he/she’s focusing on, chances are they can’t get “in the mood”. When women get real low on body fat, they can’t properly lubricate themselves, and men can’t get the blood down there, when their body’s too busy trying to survive a possible famine on no reserves. There’s a reason that there weren’t too many rape cases during the holocaust. Other possible causes of blood dispersion may be big meals, or just plain being tired. There are tons of reasons for impotency in both women and men.
“That’s when she saw me for what I really am. A skinny bald man with a limp dick.” -Neil Strauss, professional Master Pick-Up Artist and writer
Sex is a full body experience for me. I know what I want. I want love, I want family, and I want a secure future. If a girl isn’t giving me at least one of these experiences/possibilities, I can’t get into it. I get attracted to women more when they care about me. When they express an interest in my well being, or do something for me. Take care of me. If a woman shows an interest in me ahead of time, she becomes more sexual in my mind, a better life-partner. She’s already submitting to my male energy, by providing me with offerings, and it makes me want to repay her.
Whenever I first made love with my ex fiance, it had been nearly 2 years in the making. We had both cared a lot for each other. Whenever I got with the chick in A school, she had expressed more love and care in me in 2 weeks than my ex had in several years. Whenever I went out with Stephanie, she had expressed more interest in me than Salvador Dali expresses in his paintings. Whenever I got with my buddy’s ex, she had already talked with me on the phone, was all over me at a party, and send me nudie pics ftw :3
Even when the Changwan incident happened, the girl provided me a place to stay and catered to my needs specifically, taking care of me first. I can’t just give and give, even if it is my male role. Eventually I’ll have nothing to keep giving. So came yesterday’s epidemic.
Whenever a woman’s been around you too long, chances are she’s leapt into your fantasies a couple times. Most guys jerk off a good once a day to couple times a week. Most girls do it a bit more often than that. A guy’s fantasies may involve something that has happened to him, a good porno that he watched, or something that he imagined and wishes would happen to him. A woman’s fantasy could involve any number of things, they’ve got whole organs dedicated to sex, so their experience is explosive, multiple times more pleasurable than ours. It’s really a beautiful thing to watch. If you haven’t witnessed a woman’s orgasm, trust me. You’re missing out on some art. Their whole body tenses up, and they just give up, giving into you. Screaming and hollering, they shake and contort like they’re trying to escape from the experience, like their body can’t stand so much pleasure. That experience gets even more elusive and exquisite as they get older.
Sometimes a woman can’t live up to her fantasy. Most times a guy can’t live up to his. A guy’s fantasy involves nothing really unusual in sex most the time, just a hot connection and a quick end. A woman may involve whole conversations, lifestyles, even children and career paths. A man’s fantasy is a pamphlet; a woman’s is a small book. Read a Romance novel once and see how intricate it just may be. Nevertheless, sometimes a woman still can’t live up to her fantasy self, bumping and grinding in the wet dreams of somebody in the brief throws of pre-slumber ecstasy.
It’s not her fault most the time. Mostly a woman can’t do much to a guy to outwardly disgust him. Burping, farting, bragging and de-clothing just to reveal a body only a mother would love, most men would still go for it, even if they wouldn’t admit it. The stars just aren’t aligned. The guy had a big meal, he’s sick, he’s always been impotent, he’s got E.D., he’s not really human, etc. etc.
I crawl out of bed around 3 A.M. to try again. I go into the bathroom and look at myself. Most of my sexual experiences leave me with some bumps and bruises that drag the sexual experience on for a couple weeks, remembering every twist and turn. I look like I’ve been mauled by a bear. I have huge scratches and hickeys next to bite marks, far worse than when I’ve actually had sex with women. For a moment, all I can think of is how much weight I’ve lost this diet. I look exactly like a miniature version of King from Tekken (sans the tiger mask), right down to my little baby fat above my pants line. I’ve got a picture of him with my face over his hanging in my room, and I’ve completed my subtly-programmed goal of attaining his exact body type. Try as I might, even armed with my usual fantasies and no distractions, I’m unable to get any harder sitting in someone else’s bathroom by myself. I go and give up again, something I’m used to doing by now.
In “Man’s Search for Meaning”, Viktor Frankl touches on the fact that humor makes terrible situations much more bearable. He should know: he’s survived 4 concentration camps during the Holocaust. Whenever you’ve failed your role as a man, either to protect or to serve in your righteous nature, you may feel a bit down, to say the least. Sometimes it’s more than a bit. Castration can bring a man to suicide, whether it’s literal, metaphorical or even psychological. I’ve known rape victims that can’t return to work because it’s all they can think about. It affects the rest of their lives. I’ve known impotent people who can’t hold down a job. I’ve known people who just aren’t popular with the ladies who have ended it all because of their troubles.
Whenever I gave up on sex a second time, I crawled back into bed. She was still so wet that her juices were running down my leg just sitting beside her. I prayed: “God, please give me wood.” My prayers were yet unanswered. I pretended to fall asleep, feeling lower than I’ve been most my life. She woke up, rolled away from me still obviously upset, and kicked me lightly. She decided I was passed out drunk (never mind the fact that I’d only had 1 beer the whole night), and let out a fart she had probably been holding in the whole night. It was so loud it would’ve made me proud if it had come from me. She grunted, rolled back over, and farted again for good measure. She kept letting out little “pssssssts” all night, while I sat terrified, hoping I wouldn’t have to smell it. I didn’t dare move to let her know I was awake, and she didn’t decide to wake up until 0630.
She woke up, felt around for the controller, and turned on the TV. She’s always relied on the TV to distance herself from people, and to make sure that she doesn’t have to sit through awkward conversations, touchy-feely things, or listen to her own thoughts, heart, or other feelings. Constantly distracting herself from how angry and disappointed she is in the world has kept her alive for so long, it’s just not like her to go against instinct. She didn’t re-clothe, but when I hugged her she was cold shouldering, still obviously upset. Whenever your dick fails to work, what do you say? “Hey, sorry my dick didn’t work.” “Sorry about last night. I was holding in a fart.” “If you still like me, hang up and try again. I need help, I;ll dial an operator.”
She wasn’t giving me the time of day. She tried to revive conversation a bit. “I’ve been reading this book.” She gave me a book. I stared at it. She took it away. I quietly slipped on my clothes, kissed her hand, and left. I went back to my room and started to wonder about all this. Why it happened, what to take from it, what to do in case of future dick problems. I couldn’t come up with anything, and I didn’t really feel like crying about it, so I went over to my friends for a while. Better luck next time?