The Autobiography of a Modern Male
By TGR White
I slumped back in my computer chair, dick in my hand as the legacy of another night of porn dripped down my bare leg. The blessedness of orgasm passes away and all that remains is the hollowness within my chest. A longing for human contact…wanting to curl up next to a woman, to hold her in my arms.
Through the thin wall I could hear the ecstatic moans as the girl of my dreams is fucked by another man. His grunts mingled with her heated cries of passion.
I was 21 and I had never had sex, never kissed a girl, never so much as held hands. In the animal kingdom I was the loser of the pack; the outcast; doomed to die alone.
I cleaned myself up; a nightly ritual. Shame and disgust shoved away the emptiness in my chest as I looked at the last movie clip still playing on my screen, searing its way into my subconscious. A middle aged woman, comely but not attractive, her face twisted in agony as her ass was mercilessly flogged by a fat dominatrix.
Next door my love screamed in orgasm as her latest bad boy pounded away. It should have been me in there. How did it come to this?
My obsession, nay addiction, with porn began in high school. When I was fourteen my parents bought our family’s first computer. My parents were not very computer literate and I had no trouble getting around their net filter. It began with photos of hot, naked women back when kilobytes were a big deal. By the time I was sixteen I had stumbled onto bondage photos. It was edgier, novel, degrading; alluring.
Every spare moment I had without anyone else in the house I would be on the computer, dick in hand, straining for sounds of a vehicle coming up the drive. My grades did not suffer but my social life did. I did not bother trying to chase girls with the zeal of my classmates. While other guys were losing their virginity I was beating off the kinky and the twisted. While others thought about prom I thought about tit torture. I had never been a social person and I became a complete loner and loser.
In college I rented the room of a house and spent my time alone, jerking it to porn. By now I was onto movies.
The worst of it was that I thought this made me part of the bondage community. I thought I knew the bondage models; thought that I belonged. I was not some vanilla; I was part of the scene. I was hardcore.
Porn does not kiss you, cuddle you or whisper secrets in your ear; porn doesn’t make you feel human; not yet anyway…
That is how, at the age of nineteen, I found myself a porn addicted anti social asexual loser. As far as life went, I sucked at it.
At the time I thought I loved her. In truth it was a childish infatuation. Her name was Sophie. She was nothing but the woman whom I elevated to the place of goddess and upon whom I placed all my desires, insecurities and neurotic hang ups. I believed that through her I could find Salvation; escape myself. How typical is that of the modern male? So uneasy within himself that he desires to lose himself in a woman? The first time I saw her I thought she was beautiful because she looked so sad, so broken, so in need of saving.
Sophie came into my life just when the agony of porn induced loneliness was making me think of changing my life. She was naturally vibrant and gregarious; as stark contrast to me. I decided she was the One. The special girl I would lose my virginity. I had no idea how to approach a girl, how to ask her out. A million ridiculous, pathetic and absolutely cringe-worthy ideas ran through my head. I still believed that magic just spontaneously happens, that somehow our first kiss would be accompanied by fireworks to a background Disney track.
I was a twenty year old guy and I still believed in fairytales.
Instead of making a move I hesitated. If I ever had any chance I wasted it away due to my fear. Fear of being rejected, of being laughed at. If I was not already there I crashed head first into the friend zone. She needed a new housemate and I jumped at the idea. I imagined domestic bliss and sex.
There was not domestic bliss. There was sex. The first weekend after I moved in she bought some big guy back from the club. He could probably not spell his own name. It didn’t matter. He got to fuck her, to taste the sweat on her breast, to stare into her eyes at the moment of climax; I jacked off in my room. I was nearly twenty one.
There was no great moment of inspiration, no heart warming music, no great speeches or defining event; this is real life and life changing moments are seldom recognized at the time. Often they are only recognizable so far in the future that when you look back your memory is clouded. It was one too many nights of loneliness. Maybe my loneliness finally outweighed my fears. Maybe I was sick of hearing some other guy fucking the woman who should have been mine.
All I can remember is that my life changed the night I found the pick up forum. Losers like me who discussed the best ways to get laid; who practised and practised until they found themselves swimming in a sea of pussy.
It hurt. For the first time I had to look at myself honestly and it hurt. I did not realize what a loser I was. I honestly don’t remember how I found the forum; all I know is that once I found it I couldn’t stop reading. The same stories over and over again from the same sort of guys. My story over and over again.
I was a loser in high school…I’ve never had sex…never had girlfriend….how do I get her to fall in love with me…want sex…want a girlfriend…scared to talk to girls…
And the advice came. I saved pages of tales, tips and tricks from aspiring and novice pick up artists. Make eye contact. Be cocky and funny. Neg to lower her Bitch Shield. Don’t be like every other Average Frustrated Chump. Use a canned opener to begin with. If you can, use a situational opener. Comment on something about her. Agree and Amplify. Get her in a sexual state. Mirror Her Body Language. Improve yourself. Workout. Dress Better. Get a Haircut. Walk like you have a pair.
The sun was rising when I finally stopped reading. I didn’t want to change who I was. I liked who I was. The hollow feeling in my chest said otherwise. Tomorrow I would begin. Tomorrow I begin my journey to becoming an alpha male pick up artist.
“The Autobiography of a Modern Male” copyright (c) 2013 by TGR White. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced for any commercial use without prior written approval from the author.