One day seemed to bleed into the next. The general itinerary seemed to be…
*Stay in bed until lunchtime on a senseless loop of phone apps.
*Rise from the cot.
*Shit shower and shave.
*Eat the same lunch as yesterday.
*Read and write all afternoon.
*Eat the same dinner as yesterday.
*Watch a movie .
*More pointless phone use until falling asleep.
Oh, and reminisce fifteen times per day about what it used to be like to have sex, or even be in the presence of a female.
I was four days in and already experiencing sexual withdrawal. ‘What the hell will it be like in a month,’ I thought to myself.
I repeated the thought, ‘What would it be like in a month?’
So just like that I decided no sex for a month. Curious to see what effect it would have. Not that I had a choice. The borders had been closed and the government was already ramping up it’s efforts to keep people inside, urging pubs and clubs not to open. Advising shops and convenience stores to only allow one or two customers at a time. Each day really did seem to be a new experience of life. Never in a generation had anybody been through a pandemic of this magnitude.
By the end of the first week I didn’t care to even think about a naked female body. It just grumbled me. I had high hopes of having a wet dream to release the tension but despite being woken each night by an uncomfortable never-ending hard-on the climaxes never came.
The idea of sex would still drift in and out of my mind but I’d not dare entertain the idea for fear I’d work myself up into a tizzy. There was definitely no option for it now anyway, not without breaking the law. The government had ordered complete lockdown. We were no longer any better off than Italy where this had been going on for weeks already. Prisoners in our own homes. If we were caught leaving the house for brief exercise more than once per day we would be penalized. £60 was the going rate. But depending on the severity it could go up to £1000.
I’d never spent so much time at home. Never read so many books so fast. At least five hours of each day was spent reading.
I’d allow myself an hour of television each day. Sometimes two if it was a movie. Tiger King was amongst the favourable choices. The bonkers story of Joe Exotic and his polyamorous life at the zoo.
Eventually I came to ration my time on the app loop. Managed to get it down to four hours a day which was still more than I like to admit. A couple of hours on the morning. A couple of hours on the evening. Perhaps a few five minute teasers in between. Never any porn though. It seemed a pointless endeavour. Why bother teasing my brain with sexual images that could no longer be acted out. Porn didn’t interest me anyway. I’d not masturbated in years. Never went more than a week without sex either. I seen no reason to start dolefully hamming out wanks now. If my body wanted the release it would give me the wet dream, but so far it had only brought me to the precipice, never actually sending me over the edge. Just keeping me there, horny and hard during these bizarre erotic dreams that never allowed for the climax. Funny that I looked forward to waking up in a sticky puddle. When I was a teenager it was a near nightly occurrence. Now my only hope for a money shot was waiting for this curfew to end.
Thirty days had gone by and still nothing. No sex, no masterbation, no hopeful wet dream.
‘Well that’s it then,’ I thought, ‘you’ve finally reached the age of maturity. Why else have have you not spunked in the night.’
I concerned myself there was a testosterone issue, but that couldn’t be the case. Despite the lack of ejaculation I’d still spent half of every night with a solid boner.
When I allowed it in my imagination I did still fancy the idea of plunging myself deep inbetween some pretty girls labia, but it was no longer a demonic need to do so. No, it wasn’t a testosterone issue, and even if it were, perhaps it would be a good thing.
The incessant need for sex had subsided around the start of week three. I’ve actually perceived it as empowering and felt it easier to focus on other things. Writing. Creating. Meditation. Activities that were meaningful to me but had not been a priority while the option for sex had hung in the air. The Corona pandemic has been a learning curve. The frequency of new ideas and realisations were becoming rife. I was brain storming new business ideas faster than Bill Gates on a think week.
Perhaps celibacy won’t be so bad afterall.