Growing up I was a pretty average kid.

          Just like any young boy, I loved playing on the playground and running with my friends. As I got a little older, I developed a deep interest in sports, such as baseball, hockey, and soccer. My favourite memories consisted of all the cool birthday parties I went to and great times throughout elementary school. Life was pretty good for the most part. I had nothing to complain about, and every day seemed to bring along a new adventure.

          I believe the first time I ever saw porn was in the fourth grade. The older brother of my closest friend, along with his friend and older brother, invited us to come in and show us what they were watching on the computer together. Obviously, as most young boys that age, I was completely grossed out and wanted nothing to do with it. I told my friend that I didn't wish to be there anymore, and exited the room. I went home that night confused as to how somebody could like what I had witnessed on the computer screen.

          Time went on, and, just like every teenager, I was beginning to go through my first stages of puberty. I didn't like the fact that I was getting into all the things adults fantasized about, and wished that everything could stay how it was forever.

          Long story short, just like every guy eventually, I got into porn. Something that once grossed me out and made me uncomfortable, was now something I was beginning to watch every now and then. It started off in great moderation. Once in a while, I would go online and look at pictures of attractive women, but for the most part I still wasn't deeply invested in the Adult Industry—at least not at this point in my life. Little did I know, that something that started off so innocent, would eventually turn into an uncontrollable addiction that would turn my life fully upside down and change me forever.

          As I reached my mid-teenage years, what was once a casual every-now-and-then thing, had turned into something I was watching on a daily basis. I was beginning to enjoy it more and more, and I often found myself fantasizing about porn throughout my days. Unfortunately, yet expected, I started comparing all the girls in my grades to the women I watched online. I only found myself interested in the girls with nice bodies, as that was all my young, developing brain was exposed to throughout my masturbation sessions, while staying online for hours.

          I know it sounds bad, but as I continued to watch more and more porn, I started only viewing women for their bodies and not really as human beings. I felt very bad about this—awful, in fact—but it was the truth. I began to notice that if a girl didn't represent what I saw online, or if she didn't fit the picture of what I now found "attractive," I wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. To make matters even worse, the porn I was beginning to watch was gradually becoming more and more degrading. A lot of the videos referred to the girls as "bitch," "slut," and "whore," and I took note of this. 

          This was when I first started to notice a problem. There were times where I'd rather watch porn than go and hang out with friends, or indulge in the sports I used to enjoy. Porn made me feel very guilty about myself, and I was now developing a constant need to watch more and more, to the point it was slowly taking over my life.

          In late twelfth grade, just before graduation, I got my first girlfriend. I know I mentioned that I only saw women now for their bodies because of all the porn I watched, but she was a very rare exception. We got along nicely and had so much fun. It was almost too good to be true. And then sex ruined everything. When my girlfriend found out that I watched porn, especially a substantial amount, she made complaints that she did not like it, and that it made her feel bad that she couldn't "please me."

          As we began experimenting with sexual acts, considering we were still fairly young, it was true—nothing she did could satisfy me. When she took her clothes off I wasn't even turned on, because nothing she had represented what I saw in the videos. No matter what we did, no matter what we tried, nothing worked. My brain simply wasn't programmed to normal, healthy sex. I was also extremely uptight all the time, considering I was trying hard to not watch porn to make her upset. Long story short, we broke up after only two months of being together, as we were never able to solve our problems sexually.

          As sad as I was to see her go, it was simultaneously a tremendous relief, because now I could watch porn again without her breathing down my throat all the time. After the breakup I went straight back to my old ways, watching porn even more than I had been before we started dating. I was angry at myself. I felt responsible for the relationship crumbling down like a broken building.

          Now, for the most part, it's girls that struggle with body image issues. But as I continued to watch excessive amounts of porn, I began to get more and more insecure, as I was constantly exposed to the sight of abnormally large penises. As embarrassed as I am to admit it, I found myself Google searching what the average size of a grown adult was, as I felt mine was much smaller than what I saw in the videos. Society has deemed it "appropriate" to penis shame. If you're not packing a certain amount, you're told that you'll never please a woman. In reality, that's no different from telling a girl she's overweight, and can really affect a guy's confidence and mental state.

          Still, even after finding out mine was the average size, I couldn't help but constantly obsess over it. I began telling myself that I hated my body. I felt angrier and angrier, and my hatred for sex only began to increase with every day that passed. Each day I continued to watch porn, hating the way it made me feel, but I couldn't stop no matter how hard I tried. I rarely talked to females anymore because of the way I now viewed them from the videos, and everything in my life seemed to only get worse.

          I began to notice that I couldn't properly—or even at all—ejaculate. At the time I didn't know what this meant, but I later figured out the specific term is called Delayed Ejaculation, and can be very common for guys who indulge in excessive amounts of porn. I was slowly beginning to lose touch of who I was as a person.

          Time went on, and somehow, someway, I was able to find myself in a second relationship, despite me watching hardcore pornography on a daily basis. There's really no point in going into detail again. Just like in my first relationship, we couldn't solve our problems out in the bedroom, and things ended quickly. There were times where my girlfriend would be in tears because I'd rather watch porn than make love with her, or she wasn't into the degrading fantasies I had built up over the countless hours of pornography I watched.

          After yet a second potentially happy relationship ruined because of my addiction to porn, I knew I had to ask for help. My whole life was being taken over. So I booked an appointment with a therapist to see if I could work out my problems—the same problems that had been ruining my happiness for so many years now. His name was Randle, and I went into great detail with him about my porn addiction, and my inability to ejaculate properly. He told me that I wasn't alone, and that the current medications that I was taking could possibly have side effects on my orgasmic problems. He also told me that I wasn't alone in my porn addiction, and that if I worked hard it was very possible to overcome it.

          This was the best/worst news of my entire life. It was the best because it gave me a small amount of hope that I could live a happy, positive sex life, but that hope was only crushed down after six months of therapy and seeing no results at all. It was kind of like that quote by Morgan Freeman from the famous movie The Shawshank Redemption, when he says, "Hope can drive a man crazy." And I can most certainly second that. Because even after six months, I was still watching porn. I tried so fucking hard. I was clean for a full two months at one point, but shortly relapsed after I just couldn't handle the torturous resistance. I felt like utter shit that night when I gave in and watched, knowing that everything I had worked so hard for in therapy was being thrown away.

          Another long story short, I gave up therapy with Randle, and had never felt worse in my entire life. At this point, I felt I had no choice but to accept the fact I could never live a happy sex life. It was a great sadness, but also a relief, as just like Morgan Freeman said, I was driving myself literally crazy with hope. Sometimes holding on to stuff hurts more than letting go. I'm somewhat happier now that I gave up the constant need to be in control and have things a certain way. I'm now thirty-eight years old—single with no partner, no kids, and still watching porn every day.

          Look. Everyone has the right to their own opinions and beliefs. Everybody is allowed to choose what they find acceptable in society and what they don't find acceptable—everybody. But all I ask, is that the next time you log on, you please remember my face.

          Then again, wouldn't you already remember?