Porn meditation

Porn has ruined it for me. I mean now I can never be with a girl who is less than perfect. Pretty just won’t do it anymore. It seems this is my curse. It’s hard even to talk to the ugly ones. That bullshit, that lie, they say “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”. This may be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I know now that my only chances of ever dating a plain girl are alcohol or falling in love. Neither is good for your health. I’m just afraid not to end up like one of those sad junkies, doing coke and heroin away from reality, drowning my sorrows in synthetic happiness. Jacking off compulsively... Till your dick shrinks to the size of an overused pencil, till you can’t even remember what you have done a minute ago, until you die on the inside, sobbing pathetically while you’re looking at your own cum and thinking “where did this come from?”. Life has no answers. The questions on the other side are limitless. What do you do when life stops talking to you? That’s my dilemma. I mean, what can you do? What can you do but wait? Maybe it will change its mind. Maybe it’ll give you another chance. Not that you’d deserve it. A pity chance. But can you promise that you’ll never do porn again? Can anybody be cured from tainted beauty? Rules are meant to be broken, that’s what they say. That’s what they want you to believe. How else would you have an excuse to continue practicing your “hobby”? The sex... The sex will never be like what you’ve seen in the movies. It just can’t. And your expectations, my God they’re so grand! It’s quite sad actually. You, with your dick the size of a flag pole, your sperm soldiers lining at the call of duty, the veins bursting with hot blood, desperately waiting for a pretty, hairless pussy, a flawless expression of beauty, your balls restless in anticipation and the look on your face when you see the girl’s hairy pie, a real nightmare of horror. Not even Columbus would dare try discovering that. It’s just too risky. When I try opening a condom I always think of Seinfeld’s words – “it’s a girl’s last chance to change her mind”. That’s why they make them so fucking hard to open... to drag out the sensitive side in you. Smiling shyly while your girlfriend asks “is there a problem?”. You start wondering whether there’s a bit of irony in those words and you think about how hard you will fuck her dirty little pussy, imagining the confused and scared look on her not so innocent face, ultimately becoming a first rate rapist. And the presure is killing you. You get the picture. Any time now the moment will be spoiled and you’ll never get to do it. I for one know that I’ll never stop blaming those motherfuckers with their perfectly sealed condoms and their stupid instructions. They’re the cause of all my misery. Men are born misogynists. It’s not their fault. If God hadn’t made Eve so damn ignorant and self-involved none of these would have ever happened. They are the saints and the sinners. The mothers and the whores. The source of good and the cause of evil. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without them. Porn is a temporary solution. Eventually you will have to face your nightmare. The dirty, sweaty, hairy pussy and the ugly face. IT’S CALLED REALITY.