Andy's Hotel Room

I met with my boy Andy in the pub again the other day. He said that a mogul has moved in next to his business premises, handling dock-off parcels of white. He said that he treated him to some by digging into one of them with a key. Just what he needs that, isn’t it? He suffers from similar problems to myself. I asked him how the battle with porn is going. Are you resisting the temptations? Are you refusing to surrender? He said he was doing alright.

This is a guy who, when he is not enjoying autumn walks with his daughter, is likely to hire a hotel out for the night to get away from his family and do coke in while watching porn on his phone. He said he had to ring his contractor up to unblock it. “Please can you make porn come up on my phone?” was something or other like he requested from them. I’ve been there, with Sky Shield. I had to ring them up one time and ask another human being if I could please watch porn, so I know the feeling. It’s so embarrassing, but nothing dare come between a man and his druggy porn.

He’s all into his brain chemistry. He says that the brain on coke and porn is ‘hijacked’. A cup of tea for pleasure just can’t compare, can it? No it can’t. Hardly anything else if anything at all can compare with the brain on coke and porn. Liverpool beating United, O’Sullivan ratcheting in a 147, Murray winning Wimbledon, your favourite box set series finale…nothing quite hits the spot so sweetly, does it? Or maybe it does for you. Maybe you are lucky that way.

For me it doesn’t. I recall the days of scoring on a winter’s morning, when it’s all icy and snowy outside, and retreating back into the home with the goods. Sticking the porn on, snorting or bombing the gear, getting all cosy with my fapping underneath the blanket, watching XXX hardcore interracial material. It was bliss, it has to be said! So comfortable, so natural, so erotic, so sexy, so titillating, so exciting, so enjoyable, so stimulating…but ultimately a lonely endeavour which leaves one feeling weak and drained. It’s all fine when the rush is on, and the novelty is spot-on, but afterwards, when that psychosis rolls in…wow, just shoot me now, okay? Just stick a slug in my temple and get it over with.

I’m still thinking about leaving my number in my dealer’s letterbox. I rang the Samaritans yesterday and told them all about it. That would really hurt me because I have a church weekend away coming up this week. The problem is however that I have lost all the contacts off my phone and can’t get in touch with anyone. I might be relying on one of them to show up at my door and offer me a lift. I can’t see that happening really, they’ll most probs think that I just ain’t up for coming. It’s made me realise how important phones are to us. The most important weekend of the year and it’s the time I have no phone. Duh!