On the testosteronic curse: overly honest observations of a sexually charged man

It is far easier, I think, being a male in this world than a female. That I am spared the tremendous amount of frankly frightening realities of femality is a relief to me. The physical realities, such as menstruation, child birth, and menopause, are the obvious ones. But others – psychosocial and cultural realities – are so rarely dealt with by modern men that they go seemingly unnoticed by them. By these I mean, for example, the threat and statistical likelihood of sexual violence, objectification of the body, and acquaintance with the glass ceiling.

With these considerations in mind, it is somewhat a wonder that I feel even the slightest justification in complaining. But our personal lives define what we become accustomed to, and our complaints are relative to our experiences.

Hormones are curious things. The extent to which they dictate human behavior is a debated and fascinating topic, though I am ill equipped to comment on the science. What I know is based on my experience, my curse: the curse of testosterone. Testosterone is the hormonal force behind sex drive in both men and women. Presumably, its greater quantity in men accounts for, among other things, their greater drive. For a mid-twenties male, this drive is so profoundly understated that the truth may startle a normal woman to her core.

The confessions to follow are not intended to kindle sympathy; I already have empathy from nearly half the population. The purpose, rather, is two-fold. First, it is to culminate a modicum of understanding from those who cannot identify with it. Second, it is to aid in my own self-awareness, since articulation helps to codify even vague knowledge.

I asked my wife to reckon how many times per day I think about sex. She guessed four. The real answer is closer to four hundred, and this is perhaps a conservative estimate. Thoughts of sex enter my mind at the sight of nearly every woman of desirable age, a number very large given that my home and work are highly proximal to a university. This is true whether a woman be skimpily clad in shorts and a bikini-top or conservatively wrapped in a hijab, and is notwithstanding size, style, or ethnicity.

To be clear, when I say “thoughts of sex,” I do not mean that I desire to have sex with each of these hundreds of women I see. However, upon seeing them, a sexually related thought enters my mind. For instance: Would I have sex with that person, yes or no? Or: Under what circumstances would I have sex with that person; how many drinks would it take? Or: Look at those two; I wonder what it’s like when they have sex.

At times the thought is much more subdued, as in: Ooh! that face/neck/belly/chest/ass, those legs/lips/hands/hips/teeth. The mildest reaction is a straightforward recognition of attraction: Mm…she is hot! Though this, perhaps, can only marginally be considered a “sexual thought.” When the thought is merely one of attraction, as opposed to outright sexual thinking, the precursor is usually an orgasm within the previous half-day.

Of those for whom the answer is, “Yes, I would have sex with that person,” no regard is paid to their personal qualities and characteristics, whether I would like them as individuals, or whether they would have even a semblance of inclination for me. Attention is given only to their physical appeal, which varies by the moment. This variance results in a vast surfeit of diversity. In other words, women falling into hugely many “types” may all be equally appealing, or may be variously appealing at different times. From the preppy to the pierced, from the tame to the tattooed, from the homely to the heavenly, all may hold potential.

In many instances, the “thoughts of sex” stop at that, and the thought vanishes in no more time than it came. In other instances, the thoughts delve deeper, convening the borderless realm of fantasy. When this happens, it is always correlated with the extent of my drive of the moment, which is related to several factors such as the amount of time since my last orgasm and the occurrence of recent sexually explicit sensory stimulation.

These fantastical thoughts are usually very brief explorations of my ideal sexual encounter with that person. They take the form of imagining that I am making out with the person, that I am performing or receiving oral sex on or from her, or that I am engaged in coitus with her. The brevity of these thoughts tends to abstract away from whatever foreplay would accompany a normal encounter; it cuts directly to the moment of greatest pleasure: I am ejaculating in her vagina, she is swallowing my semen, or her orgasmic contractions are constricting tightly around my tongue.

These instances do not include the many in which I think about sex without the person present to stimulate the thought. My mind goes on its own, unprovoked and unsolicited, to these areas all throughout the day. At times a particular person is in mind, whether wife, friend, colleague, or stranger, and at other times some phantom woman of my own conjuring is made manifest within.

None of these random daily thoughts includes the deliberate act of fantasizing, which nearly always accompanies masturbation. Deliberate fantasy is much more prolonged and engaging, and usually involves a slow graduation of excitement until the moment of orgasm. Here, again, the incredible diversity of physical appeal becomes apparent. During any single masturbatory episode, I may imagine a detailed sexual encounter with one person, or truncated encounters with perhaps dozens of people.

Masturbation would be a far rarer and much more demanding enterprise if it were limited to mental fantasies and not aided by sensory stimuli. But the desire to reach orgasm is so frequent and regular that it insists upon a convenient and temporally economical fashion of achievement. Thus is pornography sought out. Pornographic images, films, and sounds have the remarkable ability to bring the recipient very quickly to a state of intense excitement. This allows me the option of resolving my desire within a matter of minutes, or extending it for untold lengths. When I have the time and penchant for it, this state is maintainable for sometimes many hours, the end of which will see a behemoth orgasm and the ejection of titanic amounts of semen. To satiate the ever uprising desire, masturbation is essential at least once per day, and if opportunity permits, more often.

There is little inhibition about divulging these fantasies and behaviors to familiar men, for it is generally understood among men that these thoughts are common and normal. Men often can, in fact, take solace in other men’s similarities to themselves. There is, however, tremendous trepidation, at least on my part, at revealing such things to women, particularly women close to me.

This is because of the manner in which such information is likely to be interpreted. My assumption is that this news will confuse fantastical desire with real desire; that by imagining myself having sex with an attractive stranger, I must want it to occur, I must wish it would occur, or I would be interested in seeking it out as a viable possibility. This is never the case. Thinking along certain lines and acting along those lines have different realities. This should be plain to anyone: Who among us has not become so angry at someone that the thought of punching that person square in the nose was very appealing? Very few of those with this thought actually desire in a real way to do it. They do not intend for it to happen, or seek out ways to make it so; they dismiss it as “just a thought.”

I am married, and in all the years that my wife and I have known each other, I have been committed to her. I would not ever seek out opportunities with other women, nor would I accept an overtly willing offer if it were given. But my sexual thoughts have not changed. This does not mean that in imagining myself with another woman, I am secretly plotting paths to disloyalty. I do not even think I am subconsciously plotting such paths, for I am totally confident in my commitment and my ability to withstand baited circumstances, no matter how greatly they appeal to my fantasies. I do, after all, fantasize about my wife, as well.

Whether or not my assumptions are accurate, the mere thought of most women’s reactions is enough to keep my lips sealed. Thus I do not broach this topic with women. My collection of pornography is kept in secret, especially from my wife, for if she saw its size, she would be astounded. This careful silence out of fear is the first element of the testosteronic curse. In making my self observations public, and reading these very words to my wife, I am taking first steps to rid myself of its clutches.

The curse’s second element, and indeed its most apparent, is the preoccupation and subsequent lack of focus that accompanies the sexual thoughts. The frequency of thoughts is far too enormous to yield only mild distraction or docile annoyance. It is an internal force that demands attention, lest few other tasks be accomplished. I wish to neither magnify nor understate the power of this drive, and it must be remembered that it exerts itself across a continuum of strength. At times, when the latest orgasm is sufficiently distant or explicit sensory stimulation is sufficiently high, the drive will be very strong, often necessitating immediate action (usually this is upon awaking from sleep). At other times, when satisfaction was recent, the drive is weak and is hardly noticed.

Addressing this element of the curse is a supreme challenge. I believe that the root of the drive is biological, conditioned by evolutionary means over millions of years, but this does not diminish my frustration. I also believe that it is relative to age. While men in general are known to have a powerful drive for sex, I hope that its hold on me will lessen as I exit the statistical peak for such desires.

The third element of the curse relates to the involvement of the pornographic aid I seek so regularly. I have been viewing and collecting pornography since my mid-late teenage years, but only recently has this practice begun to generate second thoughts. I have given a great deal of consideration to the grander consequences of pornography, and I am regretful to conclude that I am morally opposed to its very existence.

A battle of arguments was entertained in my thinking for some time before reaching this decision, and it is worth mentioning a few of these. On one hand, legal pornography is created by adults who consent to its production, and viewed (largely) by adults who consent to its perusal. The actors and models are compensated for their work, and likely either make an adequate living, or provide for themselves additional funds to maintain their lifestyles. In addition, the existence and availability of pornography generates prodigious pleasure and satisfaction from its witnesses. It allows people who view it to indulge in pluralities of desires, fantasies, and fetishes, from the general to the very specific. What’s more is that usually, this indulgence is safe; even illicit partialities may be explored by those who are so inclined.

On the other hand, the assumption that pornographic actors and models perform this work of their own volition is questionable. It is likely that many do, but it is also likely that many are forced, coerced, or deceived into performance. It would furthermore be of no surprise that many fall into such business first to alleviate financial necessity, and later as a means of complete economic support. The combinatory influence of drug addiction, abusive relationships, and psychological history must have ineffable effects on the individuals involved, far beyond what is perceivable in a single image or film.

This is not to mention the effect such practices must have on the physical health of the participants. The transfer of bodily fluids and inhabiting microorganisms must be gargantuan at best and a major public health crisis at worst. Data is sadly unavailable reporting the number of diseases, infections, and conditions contracted as a result of engaging in sexual acts for the benefit of pornography. It is astonishing that a solitary woman may have hundreds of sexual partners over the course of her career in pornography, and it is considerably more so that she may have dozens over the course of a single scene.

The magnitude of this observation becomes altogether gratuitous when one realizes the sheer volume of pornography that has been produced. One pornographic website may provide between forty and two hundred pages of images or films, in addition to the equal number of links to similar sites. Thus the options become available exponentially. If one didn’t know better, he or she may fall easily under the impression that every woman in the world must participate in pornography, for in no other way could the surplus be so overwhelming.

And here is where another element of the curse lies: while my personal moral values consistently abjure pornography, nonetheless do I continue to pursue it. My desire for self-satisfaction engulfs my opposition. To alleviate my concern, I seem to have two options. The first is to justify my viewing of pornography by convincing myself of its innocence and benign qualities; this equates to a compromise of morality. The second is to relinquish my pursuit and abstain from it altogether; this equates to a compromise of desire, a restraint I have already attempted and failed.

So how do I reconcile all of this? A friend asked me whether I wish that I were not cursed, that I was not plagued by testosterone. The answer is no, I do not wish it were not there; I wish I had power over it. It provides for me a learning opportunity and circumstances for personal development that would otherwise be absent. And all things considered, I would much rather live with this curse than endure the many consequences of being female, which I consider much more unfavorable.

I adhere to the notion that energy is convertible, whether measurably by physicists or delitescently by the human mind. I have identified, as one of the grand challenges of my life, the conversion of sexual energy into spiritual energy. Therein lies the silver lining of the curse. The vast quantity of sexuality that exists within me is of enormous potential, but as it stands it acts principally as a negative force. This is evidenced by the clear issues I have laid forth above. That I recognize it as such and desire to change it is a blessing.

This is not to say that I wish to abandon sex altogether, for sex is a crucial part of a healthy relationship and a healthy psyche, not to mention fairly critical for reproduction. But redirecting my wealth of sexual energy into spiritual energy will be far more rewarding than even the most sublime sexual experience. Just imagine: if every time throughout the day that I now have a sexual thought, I instead think about my spiritual relationship to the universe, how much personal benefit could come of this. If every masturbatory episode were replaced by meditation, how much introspection and self-understanding would be achieved. In training myself to understand – not just superficially, but wholly – that the hedonistic impulses of my cells are merely transient vagaries, I will hasten, if only a little, down the path of an ultimately higher purpose.