Premature Ejaculation and The Seemingly Unending Downsides of Masturbation

I’ll say it again:

Sex is about risk.

There’s no such thing as "safe sex," or at the very least the extent to which it fulfills you is inversely proportional to how cloistered it is.

Safe sex sucks.

Dangerous sex is sublime.

And in the animal kingdom, the things that bring males the most and best sex are dangerous. His risky acts are the lubricants of the female sheath, which is the final destination of his “adolescent antics,” which is the phrase old people use instead of "hawtness."

It has been noted by nerdier brains than mine that mating calls in the wild expose males exponentially more to attacks from predators. Massive peacock tail feathers slow the males down from predators. In fact nearly every single “antic” a male performs to achieve his biological directive puts him at increased risk of death by misadventure.

The momma’s boys of the animal world, who go forth with their galoshes on, a pocketful of mugging money, and grandma’s emergency cell phone number embroidered on their parkas, signal all the wrong things to horny females. He is safe, tamed, and incapable of siring, much less raising, sons who would survive the vicissitudes of life without their hot cocoa, a snuggle, and someone to tuck them in at night.

Living in Bali, I have become something of a connoisseur of lizard mating calls, being one of the most ubiquitous nature sounds in these parts. And let me tell you: I’m no girl gecko, and no homo, but I know a hot mating call when I hear one.

Because I also hear the deflated, “life beat me” mating calls of lesser geckos and the world weary exhaustion in their squawky voices. There will be no pussy for these tentative croaksters. Best curl up with the laptop and watch some “Komodo Dragon on Blonde” porno reels on the Hub. Your seed is sunk.

But hearing these mini monsters has taught me much about the realities of sexual performance - and make no mistake, for men performance is everything. The mating call itself exposes you to all manner of predators and other dangers, but the sex act itself does too. By the time you’ve lusted yourself up into a frenzy of dirty croak talk, you are ready to risk all in the final plunge of your lizard dick into that sweet, scaly snatch. “Drop the bomb now,” as they used to say. “I am complete.”

From this, we warm-bloodeds can learn a lot.

Because the sex act itself is (perhaps ironically) the ultimate Zero Fucks Given experience. You leave it all out on the field and - and this is critical - you take up all the space. You are expansive, you are everywhere, you are unafraid of being seen, attacked, or killed. Your sexual energy, the energy of the cosmos itself, is lighting up every cell of your body and by God you will make room for it or die fucking.

So let’s get to it a bit.

Masturbation is an (increasingly) frequent topic of my work. There is *some* nuance here, but if you wanted a golden rule of sexual and life fulfillment it would be: don’t fucking do it. Ever.*

Regular masturbation is one of the biggest mistakes a man can make other than getting so horny that he gets off into a chick and the popo become his co-dad, indenturing him to a life of forking over stacks for decades for a lady he probably can not stand.

So why are we talking about all this?

Yes, animals make a lot of fuss both when they are trying to get sex and when they are actually having sex. What does this have to do with me?

Well, the thing is the animals don’t just make a lot of noise for the fun of it. The “noise,” as you call it is, ehem, the vibrational channel through which the sexual energy floods their bodies. It is the beams of light upon which the fairy dust of orgasmic bliss ride. The “noise” is not a feature nor a bug. It’s the whole damn point.

And it’s not just the noise. It’s what you might call “taking up all the space,” being fully visible to the world, including to predators, un-shy, unreserved, and fully present as big as your spirit will let you be during the sex act.

THAT is the container that your sexual energy was meant to inhabit.

Now the Nitty Gritty:

When most people wank it at home, they do none of these things - nor would they have any reason to, since the pussy “came” to them for free.

There’s no victorious siring, here. Why risk getting eaten, when you can just lie on your sofa in an endless stream of visual stimulation and dopamine sitzbaths? With the Doritos by your side, YOU can be the eater AND the pussy getter at once!

But long before this, as a budding adolescent, you likely did most of your jerking off in private. You were hidden, quiet, quick, and certainly not taking up "all the space."

This trained your body in being efficient in draining you of your spew. The focal area of pleasure was confined basically to your dick and the surrounding environs.

When tantra teachers regale the blessings of “the full body orgasm,” that’s not just small talk. And tantra isn’t just a “trick to get you to last longer.” By giving that concentrated sexual energy a larger space to flow through, “lasting longer” no longer becomes the point, but rather does filling out as much of yourself as you can with your pleasure.

But you have trained yourself, perhaps for decades, to keep it small. Way small. And it is no surprise that containing so much pleasure in such a small space is unbearable, particularly if you are not used to being around the real arousal of a female “in your space,” vs the 2 dimensional picture of sex on your screen that lacks any kind of emotional or intimate stimulation altogether. Once you’re with a real chick, the force of your sex is *much* stronger (at least if she’s past a certain hotness threshold), and there is that much more energy to manage.

And this is why you feel out of control and prematurely ejaculate.

When you huff and puff and moan and groan and throw your arms out and own the whole room, your sex will flow through you and enliven all of you. You may still have to manage your ejaculations, but it will be like guiding a missile rather than missing the clutch and jolting around uncontrollably before you stall.

But how many concealed masturbations have you performed in your life? 1000s? Breath held (terrible), volume down to zero (almost as bad), hiding in some instances (at least under the covers), body frozen still, and completely invisible to anybody including the alleged sex objects on the screen. You are as small as you can possibly be at this moment, and your channels for sexual expression wither from atrophy the more you reinforce this terrible, terrible behavior. Touch-squirtitis becomes almost as inevitable as your shame.

Religious people have done us a great disservice by so emphasizing the moral aspect of self-abstinence. A “natural consequences” version of the teaching would be infinitely more effective and well received by the young. It would also not foster the revenge jacking, which is the natural response to any kind of tut-tutting by fuddie-duddies, who are well past their fucking days anyway and what the hell would they know about horniness?

But here we are, and instead of your Priest/Rabbi/Imam, you have me. And I'm telling you what’s what and why. You don’t need to do the “right” thing, and you don’t even need to do the “best” thing. You need to do whatever you can to keep the flame of life, love, and passion in your body for a length and breadth of life that no ancestor of ours ever has had a chance to live.

"Keep it in your cock. Don’t squander it into a sock." (Ramón for President!)

Rather, conserve it and flourish.

The great porn experiment is complete. We liberated ourselves from “arbitrary” religious strictures only to find they weren’t arbitrary at all and may have been the best advice anyone could have ever given us. Now we know. Without intermediary, scold, or psychopomp, we know what we need to do and what we don’t. All that is left is for us to find the will to make our greater life worth more than our smaller pleasure. Are we up to the task?

*Now this (not masturbaating) is unrealistic for the most part, at least at the moment, so as in most things in life, it is an ideal to be hewed to and then as “real life” draws us away from it, we yet strive to come as close to it as we can. When we seek premature perfection, we usually relapse hard, so please don’t try to go cold turkey with chicken choking. Your libido will rebel and send you on a boner bender that may lay you low for months.

Instead just cut back one session per week and learn how to log off or pull your pants up every *once* in a while so your body can get used to even having a choice. Then over months and years you can start towards fuller abstention, which will become a virtuous spiral as your new found zest for life will keep you more engaged *and* be a very real pussy magnet, or at least part of your arsenal.

If I could take back every youthful (and less than youthful) “leaking” I would in a heartbeat. And any man over 30, much less 40 or 50 would tell you the same thing, although most just assume they are “aging” and it’s “totally natural” to be a deflated vegetable who can’t fuck more than once a month and needs 3 days to recover after each nut. But it’s not.