I feel shame.
I remember my first "self service". I was 8 years old in the downstairs toilet of my aunts house. I cant remember why I did it, but thats my first ever memory of masturbation, I don't even remember it feeling good.
I remember I was the kind of child that bonded well with female figures in my life. I always liked female teachers more then the men.
I remember my first girlfriend. We had a pretend wedding ceremony in the school playground one lunch break. I remember in the second to last or last year of primary school of kissing in the cloak room once. After we went to our respective secondary schools we lost contact, perhaps I was too young but I never really caught on to what I would miss out until years later in my teens, when girls suddenly peaked my interest. I would imagine her, how she looked "these days", wondering if she had become really attractive, or simply the fact that if I had bothered to have a glimmer of heterosexuality and wisdom, I could have kept in contact with her, and shared growing up and puberty with her.
I remember my first year of secondary school. I remember finding, with some friends I think, dirty remains of discarded dirty newspapers, topless women if you will. I remember one of my friends showing us a fresh copy, the daily sport. I remember having a copy. I remember looking at it in my bedroom, some of the women weren't even that attractive but like most of those early days, I found their sheer level of undress so utterly arrousing I felt like I had no other choice but to...well...boys will do what boys do, especially in their own company. Through this long nightmare I have often looked back to those early days, seemingly so pure, such arousal that seemed so intense and yet so unsoiled by thought. If I could experience pure animal lust, the way an un-thinking and carefree animal would of its mate, I would describe those precious early days as the closest to it.
I remember other things to. I remember having a dream about a relationship with some perfect woman called "Kelly Brookes". My sister would later inform me she actually existed, but regardless, I remember having that full blown dream of the perfect relationship.
I remember sneaking downstairs at night to watch my dads dirty tapes he had recorded, I can still even remember one video of this woman, the way her mouth pouted during the act of copulation on the screen before me sent me into a trance. You could imagine my glee when I even managed on occasion to catch the "live" porn channels, early in the morning barely an hour or half before the channel went off the air for the day. It was exciting, its was arousing, and it felt good, and it felt right, even if I knew it was wrong enough I didn't wanna get caught by my parents tugging my turkey on the sofa with some very healthy looking young lady on screen enjoying herself seemingly too much.
I remember the years of checking women out on the street, of noticing the more attractive girls at my school, even through an anxiety breakdown that lasted so long I missed tons of second year at secondary school, but I recovered. I remember the years of seeing sex scenes in movies late at night and hurriedly positioning myself for the coming festivities.
I remember often not even bothering with the visual aids, scrub it, I'de rely on my imagination, it seemed to do a good job to...
I remember my first true internet porno, I remember she was taking it in the back of an ice-cream van and taking it good. I remember my arousal being quite complete. I remember seeing my first porno with someone else (my friends) in company. I remember feeling arousal again, and thinking that watching a porno is completely wasted on group company, I wasn't enjoying it for its plot, for its artistic depth or entertainment value. It was just a tool. A cheap tool, a means to an end, a browser window to be closed without a second thought after I had achieved my goal and was enjoying the after-tug feel-goods.
I remember finding a website, an image board, where people would post images of attractive women. I would enjoy occasionally scrolling through, simply for the pleasure of eyeing up some perfect beauties, some attractive women. I didn't even bother using them for visual aids, I preferred my imagination and porno's, but that didn't detract from the simple pleasure of just looking up a sexy looking piece of totty at a whim for the sake of it.
I remember the once in a blue moon event of seeing that perfect girl across the street and being smitten, hell, one occurred barely last month...
I remember just being a typical heterosexual boy. A bit strange, I definately had my anxiety problems, but the ultimately irony was that even in the worst of it, I could rely on a bit of porn and my own biological imperative for a quick totally guiltless pick-me up.
I remember talking to a Japanese girl online, I remember it developed into a relationship, I even remember wondering if all I wanted from her was sex, and then convincing myself it was more, until eventually it became so. I remember hearing her orgasm for me over VOIP. I remember my skull burning like a legion of fire-ants were gnawing at my brain-matter it was so arousing. I remember I had a thing for Japanese hunnies, stemming from a passing obsession with Japan. Later this would become fuel for my demon, I would use my prior interest in anime and Japan, a country where women can seem really childish, as fuel to burn the fear, even though I remember images of Japanese/asian women with smoking hot bodies (I still have them) and I remember my exact words, "Wow! her body is perfect!". I would dare any man to say otherwise and yet it didn't help. I would look at my anime folder....never really deleted. Anime is known for depicting girls with big, perhaps childish eyes and small faces. I would look at m anime folder and for all my irational fear I would see curvacious figures...drawn, inked, but depicting the ideal form nether the less. As a teenager I had those images in good faith.
I was a self described pervert. I was no sex addict, I wouldn't even bother with porn beyond the immediate aid it provided, but I was no prude either, unless my dad was watching a sex scene on TV with me.
I even remember one time in my room, doing the deed by myself, thinking "Am I gay?".
I remember that the question was pondered for all of 30 seconds to a minute before I concluded I just loved tits too much.
I remember wishing my Japanese girlfriend had larger breasts. Clearly the insensitive but natural thoughts of a bloke who likes women and had no shame of it. Secretly wishing your SO had bigger breasts. It amazes me even now how I am still in this mess.
I remember the first time we sat together, I noticed myself staring at her thighs, she wore a miniskirt and tights. I remember how that deep subconcious part of me yearned to place my hand on her lap, and before you knew...no even now remembering it I can imagine the scenario. It was true then and even now. I wanted to run my hands up ...well...the scenario gets and got increasingly blue.
I remember we kissed and I developed some hefty wood.
I remember the ice cold piercing anxiety of the first time she put my hand to her bear chest....even now it carries intensity. It was exciting. Feeling her softness and warmth.
I remember our first time....both 19 years old....I remember the big stupid grin and sense of total achievement plastered on my face the day after. I remember also after a good session with her thinkig to myself. I thought "I feel great, I feel so well and content. I feel like a man". A 19 year old who even too this day can barely grow chin hair and he felt like he was the most virile and manly bloke on the planet. It felt right, it felt good.
I remember the sheer embarrassment when my mother alluded to our escapades, my ears glowed hot red. I remember the frustration at interruptions to our fun, animal frustration, I felt like any wild beast would, a single minded goal, fulfill my instinctual urge.
I remember how after the first few times sex became less scary and anxious causing and more a spontaneous thing. I remember the fun of taking her.
As pathetic as it is I even remember thinking her sister was pretty hot, or at least enough to entertain, even if not seriously, an affair.
Hell, I even remember the last time I was aroused, Jennifer Aniston was on TV, in a movie, she was getting naked and ready for the fun and I mean, I could not miss the opportunity of watching Jennifer Aniston taking it. I even remember as the scene suddenly changed to some intruder raping her. I remember the shock, I remember it ruined the whole thing. I remember that for all that, it still seemed somewhat exciting, arousing. I am no violent sex criminal, I even worried once about becoming a rapist, like many anxiety driven worries, I decided it was unfounded. I recognized the difference between a fictional scenario and genuine violation, but she was an attractive woman.
That was until the last time we were together. the relationship had been bad for a while after. stress and being nagged. She wanted all sorts of commitments I couldn't or would not give. I was near a nervous breakdown those last few weeks.
I remember the exact moment that triggered what I guess is my POCD.
I remember not having much patience, I remember she forced me to watch some stupid internet video of two Japanese girls dancing and singing some dumb song about Tarako.
These girls weren't teenagers. I cant understand why or how...I can only assume my state of mental fatigue after a month with a girlfriend I was increasingly losing the will to maintain the relationship with despite the sheer level of emotional investment had somehow messed with my brain. I still cant see why, it didn't occur to me then and much later I watched it again to see why and was met with the image I had seen before. Of two stupidly dressed girls doing a silly dance singing a silly song. It was so not arousing I cannot fathom how.
I asked myself, in my state of impatience with my G/F "do I like kids?".
I cant remember if I was 21 or 22, but I wigged out. Whats worse is wigging out, your whole world turning upside down and your girlfriend there. Imagine the fresh stinging stabbing horror of a stressed caused anxiety complex going on even as your trying to have sex with your woman.
Suffice to say two weeks later when she went back to Japan, I was as relieved as anyone could be who is wound up like a tight coil.
I broke off the relationship. It wasn't good, she was hurtful, nagging, she caused me so much stress....and then that. I blamed her. What could I do?....caught in such a stupid irrational cycle of anxiety and disbelief at what part of your mind keeps trying to tell you even as your whole perfectly hetero past stands next to you, a quiet but firm voice reminding you that for this to exist you would have to totally expel logic, reality and the facts of your past.
The first months were horrible, but I eventually got to the point I could ignore it to a degree, but it was always there. I would curse every kid that passed my house, every kid on the TV would set me off, I would do anything to escape children. I could function with a semblance of normality but the stupid irrational fear remained. I had my ups and downs. Sometimes I could just about tolerate a kid on TV. I stopped reacting to little dudes, f**k it, If I'm not gay I certainly am not interested in kiddy todger.
I stopped reacting to babies, man I don't even know where to begin to explain why thats wrong. I can even handle the presence of toddler girls on TV or in public without much grief, of course theres always that one spike that can set you back a bit.
Of course my mind found ways to keep the fear going. I remember once...ONCE...I was maybe ...11...12?..I can barely remember my age then...I was at my best friends house...and his cousin, a girl, a year? two years younger then me?, I can barely remember, but she sat on my lap and I got an erection. All I remember was wondering why the f**k I was getting hard, even more funny is that I remember going home and never really thinking of it again. I remember her not drawing a response from me before or after. I try and ignore it, I remind myself that it was a time in my life when I got erections in math class FFS with the most boring un-inspiring teacher ever, a bloke.
I remember everything I said above, I remembered the years of un-interrupted and effortless heterosexuality. I tell myself no-one is capable, especially at such early years when you were looking a dirty newspapers and dads videos, of such impossible levels of denial, and trust me, I have considered if I was just in denial.
I remember when talking about marriage and family with my ex girlfriend. I remember we would talk about our future children. A boy named Keiichi and a girl named Ailsa. I remember the comparatively insignificant doubt "I don't want to be a danger to her". I never knew why I would think this when the topic of future children came up, but I would sometimes think it. It never became a big deal to me. I knew I liked women, I loved women, and it never seemed anything more then something I figured all men brought up in todays climate of fear for children consider. I remember that for all my fears, I knew I would love any future daughter too much to ever harm her, and I knew the concern was probably drawn more from fear of creating another person, of growing up and being a father and being committed to child and marriage. Never once did sexual thought or the fear of it come into the consideration either...just the formless concern.
I remember I didn't like Children staring at me on the bus. I remember hating large crowds of kids. Believe me, I was no fan of the little jerks, but it had never imposed itself on my heterosexuality, I loved women, I just disliked kids sometimes, especially bad behaved ones. Mostly I couldn't have cared less.
I remember when I would masturbate how I would often have my bedroom TV on, and when a kid came on, I would stop what I was doing and wait for it to leave the screen. A strange habit perhaps but I never felt right jacking off in front of televised kids.
Then again I remembered being able to watch childrens television without flinching, even if at other times I would avoid shows heavy with them. One night I might not want to watch a show with tons of kids i it and yet the next morning I would watch the Hoobs and barely notice their existence.
After the first months I was a relatively functional POCD. I would try and ignore it. Going to the beach or out in public when lots of kids were around was torture, but in some cases I could "get used" to their presence. I remember me and my sister having a sort of un-declared digging war with some kids nearby. You never forget the fear, the doubt, but I remember it not mattering at all. I was having fun with my sister at the beach, and anyway the group was predominantly boys.
I got used to it to a degree. I was fine with the vocal chatter of kids playing outside during the day, a kid across the street was tolerable. It got the point as long as I had "escapes" at home, such as ignoring the telly and going on my computer, or the kid never being too close to me, I could deal with it.
I dunno how many other guys here felt like me, but when I had my groinal responses, I kind of knew they were more based on some silly reaction then genuine arousal. Ridden with a silly illogical fear but functional enough that I still wanted to masturbate and look at attractive women. Perhaps looking at attractive women became my checking habit. My libido was never the same after the initial trigger, but looking at attractive women even though my sex drive was shot I thought helped. I could still recognize what I liked and what I didn't.
Initiating masturbation has never been as carefree as before. It sometimes seems like the erection, manually operated has to come before I can feel in the safe-zone. Its an effort to get started. Sometimes the anxiety, the fear dogs me all the way through the process. Those times I wonder why I bother, the act seeming sometimes a upsetting chore. Other times though rare I can masturbate happily, the concern will be there somewhat but f**k it, I am in the zone, I imagine the young woman on screen and close my eyes and for a split second at relief all I see is that attractive woman's body against mine in ecstasy.
I've developed what, in comparison to the whole thing is a fairly harmless aversion to using the term girl.
Before girl meant anything from female child up to 20-30 odd hotty, and I was accustomed to using it in the latter context, but afterwards I often told myself I liked women. There is no ambiguity with the word woman. Before this post even I haven't used the word girl to refer to anyone 14 up for over a year.
When I would see a girl, in my minds eye she would transform into a curvy woman, her hips would fill out, her legs lengthen, her chest would appear, in my minds eye she would appear a full fledged woman. Maybe my mind in some way tries to remind me of my heterosexuality, and perhaps protecting me from worse images, I've never really had overly disturbing images, but the thoughts of doubt gnaw at me. The girl in my minds eye turning to an attractive women barely seems to help because for some reason the knowledge she started off as a kid that was causing me to spike on TV or something.
Other times like above, without thinking, my mind does the opposite, the child is shown for what it is, an un-attractive person, that quite rightly shouldn't register on anyones radar. Simply another person on the ladder to adulthood. And yet the fact the spike caused me to notice it at all makes me feel bad.
I would sometimes worry about being like pedo's....for a long while after the first trigger I would hate every news report on TV on in a paper reporting some pedo, I hated them...still do....I was and still am adamant I am not them and nothing like them. I know I am not a pedophile yet the anxiety never truely lets me go. I eventually got used to those news stories, either not caring or turning the page/changing channel. Sometimes when my father would watch the news, in the early days of this mess anyway, I would feel so anxious, as if the next moment my face would be up on that report. *shudder*
Remember that image board I told you about?. Oneday someone had posted some disgusting material. They had posted the image of a blatantly pre-pubescent girl, fully clothed but with legs spread. I feel dirty even remembering such an image. There had been borderline images before but usually I could ignore them. Somehow out of my fear of even seeing a kid on TV when I was browsing for my women I could ignore such an image, tisk, shake m head, and feel sorry for whoever posted it, but this time I freaked out. I closed the browser and got off my computer. I didn't go back until the next day.
I tried again, still slightly worked up, and that day was okay, but by the next my checking of women hit me again. In hindsight even more pathetic. The image had a younger girl.
I wigged out.....pacing my living room as I do when I am anxious....I was disgusted, and for a short while after that I was adamant, I liked women, there was nothing arousing about the image at all. In fact it was downright disgusting. But the damage was done.
I haven't been back to that image board again.
I only discovered I might be POCD this morning. I have had a bad week since those images. I still see women and recognize they are attractive. I am still not bothered by little dudes or babies or really young girls, or teenage girls even, in many ways over the evolution of this mess I feel more assured of my heterosexuality then ever yet I still seem to fear the worse.
When I read a link from a thread on some other site and it mentioned OCD, and sexual obsession, and I saw those words...."Fear of being a pedophile" and I read the posts of people on that thread I saw myself. The people, like here, were mostly scared of being gay but I saw everything in my fear and anxiety in theres. When I read about the OCD sexual obsession I cried. I cried so hard because after over a year or so of not knowing for sure, to see other people feeling like I do, of a condition conforming to my symptoms and yeah, just seeing myself in every story of depression and doubt was overwhelming. I wasn't alone. I wasn't some monster or lost cause. And most importantly, real potential reasons. The anxiety might be all in my head but the reason I suffered it may not be.
I dunno how or what to do now. I am not diagnosed. I considered OCD once or twice, but un-important park version, because of my little perks. I have the habit of pacing sometimes, I never thought much of it. I've also had my fair share of anxiety problems in my past.
I had tried to put this whole mess down to my anxiety problems of the past, and it always seemed different because I had never felt anxious about my sexuality before. If I was a pedo I woulda thought it long ago and not been very bothered either, right?.
In hindsight sexual obsession, OCD, its an anxiety problem.
I guess I will have to consider seeing a doctor to see a specialist. I dunno how or if I will tell my parents. I'm 23 now. I would and often still wish for some magic genetic test that can tell me I am straight...but in accordance with POCD/HOCD I wonder if I would believe it even then.
Maybe part of the problem has been wishing for some magical pill that would make everything go away, and even now as I contemplate POCD I still entertain the idea of some magical gene therapy that makes my brain stop expressing whatever defaults causes it, of me and everyone looking back on the past and laughing.
I imagine like in a scene from star trek of being put under some shiny scanner and the doctor saying "all done" and I am fixed. I have always thought myself of a man of science and logic and reason. I reject religion, I reject unfounded emotion, and yet, as my past proves, I am still as much a slave to it as everyone else here.
Well....I have allot of thinking to do now, at least thinking in the right direction I hope. I am optimistic enough to believe sooner or later such silly things as OCD and all sorts of problems can be fixed. I have often wished that there had been a cure to pedophilia before I was born, if only because that fact alone would have potentially saved me so much doubt and anxiety.
I hope one day medical science can press a magic button and fix faulty genes, repair chemical imbalances effectively, and best of all, ensure no person is ever again born with the ticking time bomb of mental disease.
Even if I never live to see that day, I take some comfort it knowing it is coming. I don't expect to leave any great works behind, I am a simple person with simple pleasures, albeit curbed somewhat by this shitstorm, but to know that there will be a day when humans have nothing to fear from OCD or pedophilia in the future gives me comfort.
I wouldn't wish this irrational doubt on my worst enemy.
I am sorry for the long post.....I've had allot on my mind...