Master of My Domain: How 365 Days of No Porn Changed My Life

What if I told you you could change your life by not touching your dick? No porn. No masturbation. Would you do it for a week? What about for a month? What about for an entire fucking year?

Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you to stop punchin’ the munchkin for a year. That’s a little extreme, and more than a little stupid. I know this, because my junior year of high school, I gave up masturbation for a full 365 days.

That’s right. I — at the time a 16-year-old boy with raging pubescent hormones and zero chances of getting laid — made the decision to not touch myself for a full year. No strangling the cobra. No buffing the banana. No tugging the tubesteak. For 365 very long, very hard days.

I’ve told this story to friends before (usually after a couple beers) and they always have the same two questions:

1. What was I thinking?
2. Seriously, what the fuck was I thinking?

They’re both valid questions. Telling a teenage boy not to jerk off is like telling a fish not to swim. It’s what they do. I understand my friends’ confusion, but in my opinion, they always fail to ask the more important question:

1. Was it worth it?

And that’s when things get interesting. Because in all honesty, this simple decision to stop jiggling my jimmy may have altered the course of my life, and — who knows? — it may have the potential to change yours as well. Just don’t do it for a full year. Seriously, that was dumb.

No Touching! No Touching!

I’m assuming you have the same questions my friends had, so before we get into how it changed my life, let’s begin with why. Why did I decide to stop changing my own oil?

The answer is not a good one:

Religion.

When we’re children, we’re constantly asked what we want to be when we grow up. For some weird reason, my answer was always a Catholic priest. Most kids want to be firemen, astronauts, or ninjas, but I always saw myself donning a white collar and feeding the masses paper-thin crackers. I was an odd kid.

Before I talk about religion, let me offer you this disclaimer: I do not believe any religion is inherently good or bad. In my opinion, religion is like alcohol. Some people can practice moderation and have a good time. Other people shouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere near the stuff.

If religion was alcohol, I was an alcoholic. And not a functional one.

I was a terrible Catholic — one of those “fire-and-brimstone” dickheads who believes everyone is going to hell because they “sin.” I judged everyone, and I judged them harshly. People say hindsight is 20/20, and looking back, I have a crystal clear, HD image of me being a complete asshole.

Of course, I didn’t see it that way at the time. Instead, I believed I was nearly perfect in God’s eyes — I didn’t curse, I didn’t drink, I didn’t smoke, I didn’t do drugs, and I didn’t have premarital sex. I also didn’t have any fun, but that’s beside the point. In my head, I was pure. There was just one teeny-tiny little sin that I couldn’t quite seem to quit:

The devil’s handshake.

I was a horny little bastard. I couldn’t stop jackin’ it, and this wreaked havoc my tender adolescent psychology (not to mention my tender adolescent boner). Because I believed that jerking the jack-in-the-box was a sin, every day — at least two or three times — I felt a crushing sense of guilt. My body would be in a state of euphoria, but my mind kept thinking about all my dead relatives watching me from heaven and sadly shaking their heads beside a disappointed Jesus.

I couldn’t handle the guilt, so at age 16, I decided I was going to stop bludgeoning the beefsteak for good. I was going to be a priest, and priests can’t marry. If they can’t marry, they can’t have sex. If they can’t have sex, they shouldn’t be allowed to flog their own bishop. Thus went my ill-fated logic.

Sometimes we do great things for stupid reasons. Believing that any divine being would judge you for playing a game of one man tug-o-war is more than stupid. Nevertheless, going 100% celibate had two profound effects that completely changed my life for the better.

The first effect is universal, and I believe anyone reading this article will be able to make use of it. By redirecting my sexual energy, I was unknowingly utilizing a little-known but powerful success principle:

Benefit #1: The Sex Transmutation

A full decade after my decision to stop tickling my teabag, I was reading Napoleon Hill’s self-help classic Think and Grow Rich, and I came across (“Phrasing!”) an interesting chapter called “The Mystery of Sex Transmutation.” According to Hill:

“Sex transmutation is simple and easily explained. It means the switching of the mind from thoughts of physical expression, to thoughts of some other nature.”

Science tells us that energy can neither be created nor destroyed; rather, it transforms from one form to another. Hill believes that sexual energy is no different, and he illustrates this with an example:

“A river may be dammed, and its water controlled for a time, but eventually, it will force an outlet. The same is true of the emotion of sex.”

Cutting off sexual energy — whether it be thought or actions — is like damming a river. The water/energy isn’t going to stop flowing, so you better redirect it to a new location or it’ll flood.

Although 16-year-old me had never heard of Napoleon Hill, I knew that quitting masturbation — and by extension, pornography — wouldn’t be easy. I needed a lot of willpower, but more importantly, I needed a strategy.

I realized sexual energy was physical energy, so I needed to replace pulling the python with a physical action; something to keep my hands busy to avoid them going down my pants. So I created a plan of action when the urge struck:

Whenever I got horny, instead of playing pocket pool, I was going to play… *drumroll please*

…the muthafuckin’ drumset!

The moment I replaced playing “backstroke roulette” with playing drums, I redirected my sexual energy — all of that dynamic, primal rage — into a creative pursuit. I’d inadvertently discovered the art of “Sex Transmutation.” As Mr. Napoleon Hill himself explains in Think and Grow Rich:

“Fortunate, indeed, is the person who has discovered how to give sex emotion an outlet through some form of creative effort, for he has, by that discovery, lifted himself to the status of a genius.”

Genius? Sure, I’ll take that. All I know is that within months my drumming skills increased tenfold.

Before my experiment in solo celibacy, I was an embarrassingly mediocre drummer. By year’s end, I was a well-oiled drumming machine that could bust out explosive, polyrhythmic blast beats that would melt the face of your unborn child.

It could have been any skill — drawing, painting, yodeling, keytar, lawn darts. I chose drums because they were something I was passionate about. If you redirect your sexual passions toward a non-sexual physical passion, you’ll learn the skill exponentially faster.

This is a universal truth, and I can fully attest to its power. Although this skill changed my life in countless ways, it’s significance pales in comparison to what happened next.

The second effect celibacy had on my life was much more personal, but it was the single most life-changing thing that’s ever happened to me.

Benefit #2: Power, Freedom, and Damn Near Enlightenment

Interesting things happen when you stop making the bald guy cry cream.

Recovering addicts might call it a “moment of clarity,” but I didn’t consider myself an addict. I considered myself a guilt-ridden teenager who enjoyed a good wank.

Notice how casually I said “guilt-ridden.” Guilt had been an integral part of my life for so long, I didn’t know how to define myself without it. To make matters worse, my concept of “God” was so deeply entangled with guilt (and judgment), that I myself was becoming tied in a massive negativity knot of which there seemed to be no escape.

That’s when something miraculous happened. I realized that I was, in fact, an addict. But I wasn’t addicted to polishing my sword. I was addicted to guilt.

When I quit milking the mansteak, I no longer felt suffocated by shame. I realized that by embracing guilt, I was placing a psychological stranglehold on myself, and when I finally broke free, I felt victorious. I felt empowered. I felt free. I stopped judging myself, but more importantly, I stopped judging others. For the first time in my life, I finally felt happy.

But that’s when terror struck, because this newfound happiness actually made me feel further from God. I knew this didn’t make any sense, so I looked inward and made a profound discovery:

I wanted God to be judgmental because I myself was judgmental. Essentially I was worshipping myself, but even worse — I was worshiping the worst parts of myself. Sadly, much of humanity does the same thing.

Judgment. Guilt. Fear. These are the worst parts of humanity. They’re what the weakest among us embrace, because they’re the easiest to embrace. Those qualities destroy, and it’s very easy to destroy. It’s much more difficult to create.

I quit fondling my figs because I thought it’d bring me closer to God, and in a way it did, but only because I realized that my previous definition of a bitter, judgmental God was a stupid, archaic, and destructive lie.

To the average person, that may not be much, but to angst-ridden, self-loathing teen who almost dedicated his entire life to the priesthood, that was damn near enlightenment!

Although my religious beliefs changed a few months into my experiment, I decided to continue my celibacy for a full year, whereupon I finally “relieved” myself of celibacy duties and gave myself a “dishonorable discharge.”

It was one the best days of my life.

Master of Your Domain: The No Porn / No Masturbation Challenge

Slapping the cyclops is a victimless crime. I know that now. It helps prevent cancer, it releases endorphins, and it improves sleep. It also feels really, really good. So why would anyone want to temporarily quit? I can’t promise you enlightenment, but I can promise you this:

If you take the challenge, you’re going to cultivate a skill that you’ve always been meaning to achieve, and you’re going to do it exponentially faster than you expect.

I know you have a hidden skill or talent. We all do. There’s a seed of desire within us that’s dying to be watered. Maybe it’s already started to sprout, and it’s just scratching the surface and ready to burst forth. You’re going to identify that desire, and for however long you decide, you’re going to transfer your sexual energy into cultivating that skill.

By the time you’re finished, that seed is going to sprout into a massive redwood tree!

Step 1. Identify your muse

What is one talent you’ve always wanted to learn, but haven’t fully pursued? It could be writing, dancing, art, music, physical fitness, etc. What’s something you wish you could do better?

Step 2. Pick a timeframe

A week or two is great for beginners, but if you’re really badass, 30 days is absolutely perfect. Generally, the first two weeks of quitting any habit is the toughest. Ideally you’ll want your timeframe to extend beyond the “difficulty hump.” That’s where the magic happens.

Step 3. Transfer your sexual desire to your muse

Whenever you feel the urge to go whitewater wristing, work on your muse instead. You’ll be shocked at how quickly the sexual craving goes away once you immerse yourself in something you’re truly passionate about.

Step 4. Mark the last day on your calendar

It’s easier to complete a race when you can see the finish line. Believe me, you will look forward to that day. When it rolls around, feel free to whack Willy Wonka into wonderland as much as you want.

If this sounds challenging, that’s good. It should be.

When we push ourselves, we redefine our limits. When we redefine our limits, we become stronger — mentally, physically, and even spiritually. I quit pumping my peter at age 16 — life’s prime jack off years — and if I can do it for a full year, you can do it for 30 days!

When you accomplish your goal, you’ll be a stronger version of yourself. You will have strengthened your willpower and developed a new skill in the process. Win-win. And you’re going to have the perfect way to celebrate. Trust me, after X amount of days, victory will feel amazing!

Author’s Note:

Because I write from personal experience, all my masturbation terminology was wiener-oriented. Since this is the 21st century and equality is important, allow me to offer a few slang terms for female masturbation:

Diddle the skittle, itch the ditch, mash the minge, feed the sarlacc, stirring the trough, saucing the taco, tickling the tuna, slamming the salmon, buffin’ the muffin, digging for the keys, twisting the third nipple, polishing the pearl, paddling in the pink canoe, shucking the clam, flossing the vertical smile, and finally, bruising the beaver.

Feel free to insert any of the above into the previous article. Yay, feminism!

Become the Master of Your Domain!