Moment Of Clarity

So she's sitting across from me and we've been talking for a bit and everything is going well. Better than well even. In fact....

Do I like this girl?

Holy shit... I think I might like this girl!


She's really cute. She laughs at my jokes. She contributes to the vibe instead of just sitting there like a bored child. She's interesting and cool.

I wonder what she'd be like in bed?

I visualize myself in bed with her using the right side of my brain while multi-tasking our conversation with the left side. I realize that instead of wanting to speed fuck her with my eyes closed thinking about the last Taylor Rain clip I caught on RedTube, I could see myself taking it slow - going down on her for at least a half hour before delicately entering her with the soft playfulness of a feather being lightly tickled across bare skin. That's what love is about right? This HAS to be it, right?

BUT WAIT!

Is this really the case? Am I thinking clearly?
Suddenly I remember that my brain has been compromised. A higher order level of consciousness reminds me that I cannot trust myself or my feelings. My mind is being affected by a delusional haze that separates perception from reality. I haven't had so much as a drink, I haven't taken any drug, yet I am most definitely under the influence...

Under the influence of not having released my load in over 3 days via sex/masturbation.

Women may not know this, but every man definitely does:
Immediately after breaking off, your ability to see the world as it is slowly deteriorates as your testicles refill themselves. A man with a full nutsac and a desperate want will have little to no grip on the world in and of itself and is certainly in no position to make sound decisions about matters of love. Put him in a bar on a Friday night and watch as reality crumbles; the apparent truths easily apprehended by more sober and less wanton minds inverting themselves to suit a desperate wanderer’s need to compulsively ejaculate. Nothing is as it seems, the little that he needs (E.Vedder, 2000): fat is slim, below average becomes acceptable, a clear-cut “6” turns into a “9” by last call. Boring is bearable, mundane is funny, up is down, black is white and on and on and on. The world is a different place when you're looking at it through the cum fogged lens of a ripe load.

Within every man there is a Jekyll and a Hyde. A Bruce Banner and a Hulk. A Hugh Grant w/ Liz Hurley and a Hugh Grant w/ Divine Brown. There is within us all, humans of the XY chromosome, the capacity for great good or depraved evil. For man life is a constant struggle to control the forces raging within him.

Usually I keep myself in control through sex with a willing/paid partner (when available/affordable) or strict devotion to a rigorous masturbation routine. Either will keep me sane and allow me to see the sky in its truest shade of blue.

In other words: working my joint keeps me on point.

Sometimes life gets in the way though. Sometimes you work all day and have to rush somewhere after work and you have to make dinner then you get caught up solving a really good Sudoku or maybe Conan has a couple interesting guests on Late Night and for whatever reason you just don't get around to releasing the pressure that has been building up inside of you. And then maybe another day goes by...and then maybe another one…

You see where this is going right?

For me things start to go pear shaped around day 3 or 4. That's my threshold. Every man has a threshold unique to his perversion and biology and mine is three days give or take 24 hours. I don't know how this stacks up with other men and personally I don't care. I'm sure there are guys who could go longer and I also figure there are a handful of poor bastards out there who couldn't stop jerking off if it meant saving their marriage. I don't dwell on either much. I just try to avoid putting myself in that terrible situation where you’re in bed with a girl, about to reach climax and you have the following happen:

“Yessss…..yesssss….yeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhooooohFuckWhatHaveIDone?!?”

So I'm still sitting there talking to her, still a bit starry eyed, still juggling these thoughts with one side of my brain while the other works on figuring out what to say next; but I can't go on like this. I need to know if this is real or just a hallucination I'm having cause at the moment I'm some kind of cum loaded Frankenstein. I need to find my moment of clarity. So I do the following:

Without explaining anything I excuse myself from the conversation by getting up and offering her a hug/kiss of the cheek. She asks me if I'm leaving and I say yes. I don't bother to grab her number because I know her through a friend and if I wanted to find her again I could. Asking for a number would create an expectation that I might not be willing to fulfill if I realize I'm wrong about this whole thing.
As I step back after giving her the hug I scan her body head to toe, front to back. I memorize her in depth – colour of her eyes, shape of her lower body, texture of her skin, the way the lighting creates a shadow in the space between her tits – everything is captured in my mind's eye.
I could be blinded with acid and still be able to mentally recall her ass with enough precision to paint a mural in its tribute like some modern day Monet. I also take a wholesale inventory of the night's conversation – absolutely everything that was talked about. Amazingly none of this is for beating off, but you'll understand later...

I leave the lounge and speed home to my bedroom, break open my laptop, position a box of tissue next to where I'm seated and I grab a notepad and ballpoint pen. I place the pad and pen on the opposite side of me, close enough to reach but far enough away to allow me space to do what must be done. I surf over to RedTube or PornHub or Quickfap, select a scene and begin stroking harder than the U.S. rowing team in the final 100m.
I give it my all. I immerse my soul in the activity; my face bearing the expression of some ancient tribesman engaged in a ritualistic quest for god. I bring myself toward enlightenment...

(elapsed time: 35 seconds)

Result!
I feel the psychosis leaving my body. I have found my Zen.
In this moment, immediately after having release, I see the world as clear as I ever will. I can see all of life for what it is. Every emotion is pure and centered.
Quickly, before I even attempt to dress myself, before my mental fades back into a pussy scavenging golem like single-mindedness, I grab the pad and pen and hit the recall button on my memory so that I can replay my night with the girl scrutinizing every detail of our interaction with the razor sharp logic of my freshly cleansed mind. I think about how I felt talking to her and run a session of revisionist history. As my feelings present themselves I note them on the pad. When I'm done I read over what was written and I can see her now for what she truly is:

Average looking at best
Conversation is typical, likes talking about Astrology too much
Believes in “The Secret”
Spits (lightly) when she talks
Slightly cross-eyed
Huge fan of post-insanity Britney because she’s “such a fighter”

That's usually about the time I'm glad I didn't give her my number.