it's all about patience.Įrotic hypnosis-like the dollar menu at Taco Bell-is exactly what you make of it, and that’s a pretty exciting/comforting thing. I immediately see how this kind of hypnosis, when practiced time over time, could produce a very fruitful sexual relationship with a loved one. It was almost comforting to know I got to this level without a partner in the same room. My girlfriend was far away at this point, so I couldn't "test out" the aftermath. Of course, there's still one problem: there is no female in my immediate vicinity. You know how after Usain Bolt runs the 100-meter in 9.98 seconds, and he’s asked afterward, “What went through your mind during the race?” and he answers: “Nothing, just.my mind went blank.” That’s exactly how I feel. Any insecurities I have about sex were gone-no self-conscious thoughts about my body, no worry about if I could “perform” or not of course I could, because I wasn’t even thinking about it. I’m roused out of my state, whatever state that is, and.feel incredibly calm and confident. This much is true: the 20 minutes fly by. Other times, Doc might as well have been speaking Mandarin, as I’m caught in my own head, questioning why we’re on Earth and trying to remember who killed Laura Palmer in Twin Peaks. I drift in and out of listening to my doctor, sometimes hearing every syllable out of her mouth, really trying to focus on myself, on my sexual state of mind, to channel her encouragement: “Keep in mind that you’re still in complete control of your body, I’m simply guiding you,” she says. Marsh’s voice is like: faint sirens in the distance that I kind of want to ignore, yet I’m still intrigued by where that ambulance might be headed, and think about who’s in trouble, and if they’ll be alright. It’s like those moments when you’re about to fall asleep, but you still can consciously hear the ambulance siren noise from the street below. I know, for a fact, that I could jump out of it at any moment and walk around feeling fine, but I just don’t want to. I start to feel myself slipping into a state of.something. Damnit! Focus on YOUR happy place! Okay, I'm back feet in the snow while sipping a Piña Colada.ĭr. I wonder what other people’s happy places look like? I think to myself. There are also monkey-butlers and Cadbury eggs everywhere, obviously. I love the beach, but I love winter, so a snow-covered beach seems to make the most sense. I make a note in my head to tell her that my “happy place” is a beach in the Bahamas covered in snow. Next, she leads me into heavy breathing and tells me to find my happy place.
Marsh tells me this stance boosts your levels of testosterone and, like the session she gave me, will make you feel like an overall more sexually-confident person. Marsh tells me to stand up and put my hands at my hips like Superman, which is appropriately dubbed the “Superman” pose (see above). “It’s close to being very involved in a hobby or a computer game. Marsh, helping to describe what I was about to experience. “It’s very close to meditation,” said Dr. The results were, very much, unexpected-but interesting nonetheless. For science, I suppose? For the chance to find a new way to get off? For the opportunity to reach Nirvana? Serenity now, and whatnot? Sure, all of the above. Okay, here’s the story: earlier this year, I met with an erotic hypnotist. Don’t miss the forest for the trees or whatever cliched saying is tattooed on your college bud's lower back.)
(As I later found out, that’s the point-it’s about the journey, not the destination. work-up an erection? Achieve climax without an erection? Recite the lyrics to a Donna Lewis song? Who even IS Donna Lewis? I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing, or what I was to expect. It’s all I could think about as I lay in bed, eyes closed, trying to calm my nerves and. Am I about to live every man's dream, or am I going to end up a sexually-charged vegetable?
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