Posted by Ryan on September 6, 2005, 9:48 am, in reply to "Part 18: What goes on in an exhibitionist's mind when he falls into it" Back in my room I would go again. Cold beer, gold, then dark. Sometimes wine. Porno mags. Pictures of breasts. Close-ups. Pubic hair. Vulva lips. Labia majora, labia minora. Feminine fingers with manicured, polished fingernails holding them open. Insides of young, 18-year-old birth canals. Sensuous open mouths, lips decorated with lipstick, lotion on my hands, masturbation, ejaculation, orgasm.... “Ohhhh! Mmmm!” I had my CD player going. Nelly Furtado was singing. A song I used to hear and enjoy overseas: They say that girl, y’know, she act too tough, tough, tough. “Ohhhh! Mmmm!” I would groan, in the ecstasy of orgasm. Then when it was over, as if speaking to her, would think in my mind, ‘Sorry Nelly, didn’t mean to disrespect you. I was just listening to your CD, and I just... and in the privacy of my own bedroom... and pictures... and your female voice going, “Follow me, follow me, follow me—down, down, down....’ Mmm... and passion coming out... and female passion, and ahhh.... Sorry Nelly, if I ever met you in person, I’d be the politest gentleman you ever met, you wouldn’t sense the least thing sexual in me, I'd be a gentleman....’ ‘Don’t worry about it,’ I was kind of saying to myself after coming down from the ecstasy. ‘Don’t worry, there’s no way she’ll ever know. Big artists never know what all their fans—I mean, they know in general... that sometimes their fans... get off sexually.... But... don’t worry, she’ll never know. Boy, I’d be so embarrassed if she did....’ It’s getting so lonely inside this bed, Where is your logic? N—— and I continued to communicate by e-mail, and one day she just said to me, “Ryan, if you’re feeling so bad there, why don’t you just move and come here? I would do everything I could to keep you company and see if I could make you happy. We could go on walks together. Maybe I could give you a kiss on the cheek, and see if that will cheer you up.” She was cheering me up some, just saying that. ‘My,’ I thought. ‘I wonder if she’s interested in a relationship.’ Suddenly the idea seemed very appealing, as it never had before. I e-mailed her back and said, “You know, that is something I could consider doing. Maybe I could go to work for the language academy where I started working before I left. But I have lost my job. It would take more money than I have right now. And where would I stay?” I asked her. In her next e-mail, she said, “You can stay here in our house with me and my family. My father remembers you, and he says you are a fine young man.” “Greet him for me,” I said in my next e-mail. (In their culture, it’s customary to greet the girl’s parents—especially if you already know them.) Suddenly these days, I was cheered up just thinking about going back there, and just staying there indefinitely. I shrugged my shoulders to myself. ‘God knows how long.’ I asked her if she could do me the favor, since I didn’t have the e-mail address, of going by the academy and asking the owner if there would be a position available for me if I came back. She was more than happy to go do it, and a few days later she e-mailed me saying he had told her yes, and she gave me the academy’s e-mail address and had given him mine so we could talk about it. I read on some site on the Internet that when a person suffers depression from the loss of a romantic relationship, the depression is being caused by a sudden drop in phenylethylamine (fen-ull-ETH-ull-a-meen), which is an amine that has pharmacological properties similar to those of amphetamine, and is produced naturally in the brain. It said chocolate contains phenethylamene (fen-ETH-ull-a-meen),which is almost exactly the same thing, and is structurally and pharmacologically related to amphetamine, though it doesn’t have doses anywhere near it. It said the sugar in chocolate does a lot to counteract the effect of the phenethylamine, as does much of the rest of the food we eat. But if you go on a diet for a day or two where you eat nothing but fruit (the naturally occurring fructose in the fruit doesn’t counteract it the same way sugar does) and drink only things with no sugar in them, then suddenly eat a whole mess of sugarless chocolate, the sudden surge of phenethylamine—in some people at least—can undo the depressing effect of losing your romantic love. But, it said, if your depression is brought on by something else, even loss of someone you love, but not in a romantic way, such as a family member, it will have no effect. I thought about what I had lost, and how it was causing me depression. It was both the loss of a romantic love as well as other things and people in life. With me it was both. Even though my situation wasn’t exactly matched, I decided I wanted to try it anyway, just to see if it would do anything to help the way I was feeling. It would take several days. No meat, not anything—except fruit—for a few days, and no sugar in anything you drink. I bought a bunch of fruits and Diet Coke and Diet 7-Up, and ate and drank nothing but that for two whole days in a row. Then I bought a bunch of big chunks of sugarless chocolate in bulk, and a bunch of cacao in chocolate-bar form made for cooking, and a container of diet sweetener. As horribly bitter as the cacao was without anything in it to sweeten it, I found that if I ate chunks of it together with the sugarless chocolate, it just tasted like dark chocolate, which I like. That day and night I just pigged out on a whole mass of it—had a lunch and then a dinner of nothing but cacao bars eaten together with sugarless chocolate, and diet drinks. Then I went to bed. The next morning? Whew! I stopped and thought to myself, ‘Hey, I don’t feel so bad. I don’t feel so depressed.’ And dang! I felt as horny as a rabbit who hadn’t seen a female rabbit in a year. Oh, man. Lotion out, magazines out... oh man. Stiff as rock. Orgasm, then ecstasy. Once. Then a minute after finishing, twice. Then a minute after finishing that one, a third time. Then about ten minutes passed, and what’s this? Again? ...And again? Whew! Sex machine! It may take a whole day for it to go into effect—two even, and your diet has to really be curtailed, but I say what the Aztecs believed about chocolate was right: it IS an aphrodisiac—they even forbade their women to consume it, for that reason. Our societies today just don’t know it, because the only way we eat chocolate is in little bits, and with sugar in it, which counteracts the effect, and with our stomachs being full of all kinds of other foods, which also counteract the effect. And it was a rocky road coming down. For a while I was feeling fine and free from the depression, but then after a while I was suddenly feeling it again, then feeling it gone for a little bit, then back—rough. And it made me feel more lonely. It made me desire to have someone’s company more. I would masturbate to the photographs of the young women in the magazines and their bodies, and then when I was panting and feeling my heart beating after the orgasm, I would lie back resting, and when I saw the picture of the woman naked, I would feel pity on her. I took the covers of the bed and laid them over her all the way up to her shoulders and could hear myself saying in my mind, “Here, you can cover yourself so you don’t have to be ashamed, honey.” Like Tom Hanks in that movie “Marooned,” which was written from people’s real experiences of getting stuck all alone on desert islands, he took the soccer ball that had the name “Wilson” written on it, made a face on it out of blood from his hand, and started talking and carrying on conversation with it, as if it were a real person. It’s a need that the chemicals in our brains demand. And now, on this chocolate/cacao-binge, it appears to me that the need was being exacerbated in me. Just as at one point in the movie, he screamed, “...And here I am talking to a goddammed soccer ball!” I caught myself and shook my head, saying, “...Talking to the girls in my porno-mags!” I think the sudden dose of phenethylamine did make it flare up. I went and e-mailed N——. I told her I really would like to go back there and just stay there for a time, indefinitely—maybe years. I was feeling love for her, and I had to restrain myself from telling her so. I knew it was the stress of both the depression AND the massive dose of phenethylamine. I knew it was a temporary effect that wouldn’t be wise to voice. So I made the decision: I was going to start saving up my money, and I was going to go back there with her. Heck with everything else. Link: Post a response
Board Administrator
(Originally posted November 7, 2003, 7:05 pm)
Well, it’s till I turn off the light—turn off the light.
They say that girl, y’know she act so rough, rough, rough.
Well it’s till I turn off the light—turn off the light.
And I say, “Follow me, follow me, follow me... down, down, down, down
till you see all my dreams.
Not everything in this magical world
is quite what it seems....
don’t know if I should lick my wounds
or say “Woe is me” instead....
I live my life by the moon,
if it’s high, play it low,
if it’s harvest, go slow,
and if it’s full, then go!
Who do you need?
Where can you turn in your delicate time of need?
Follow me down, follow me down, down, down....
(To be continued at a later time)
