The first chapter of Manic Pixie Egirl
For your viewing pleasure
“Before you begin, make sure you are somewhere comfortable, safe, and alone.”
With black-and-white thinking, you’re always setting ridiculously high expectations for yourself and hinging your entire sense of self-worth on whether you live up to them. For instance, I will not consume any sugar for the rest of the month. I will do one hundred pushups every day for a year. I will fully grieve this breakup in a healthy, non-toxic way.
“Make sure you give yourself enough time. At least forty-five minutes.”
Until now I had always followed the classic advice: the best way to get over a woman is to get under another one. It seemed harmless, even wise. But that advice had led me from one dysfunctional relationship to another without room for a breath in between. I would always think I was going into my slut phase only to find myself dating the third girl I slept with. I read somewhere that this pattern of jumping right into new relationships was an unhealthy coping mechanism. It was just another way for me to avoid feeling my feelings. Very well then.
I will not pursue any woman sexually or romantically for the next six months.
“Get into a comfortable position. For this meditation, you can be sitting up or lying down.”
Women were my number one vice. I dabbled in weed and alcohol, but there was nothing quite like the sweet oblivion of the feminine to take my mind off the sorry state of my life. Women were the ultimate distraction: obsessing over them, texting them, fucking them, dating them, changing my personality to be exactly the man they wanted. It was a full-time commitment.
“Once you are very, very comfortable, take a deep breath in through your nose.”
When you grow up with a single mom and are educated by female teachers, you learn pretty quickly to associate your sense of self-worth with women’s approval. If you could convince a hot girl to like you, it didn’t matter if you were a 33-year-old man working in a restaurant. Nothing mattered, not climate change, not the plastic island in the ocean, not the egregious inequality. All that mattered was that you had the approval of a hot girl.
“Now exhale slowly through your mouth.”
I no longer had sex in order to gratify myself sexually. The primary goal of the sexual act was to impress the girl. To do things to her no man had done before. To make her cum and squirt and scream and cum again. To get her so hopelessly addicted to me, she had to come back for more.
“Continue breathing in through the nose and out through your mouth.”
In my quest for sexual mastery, I had repeatedly come across the edict that once you stop looking at porn, you get better at sex. Perfect. Another opportunity to make a completely unreasonable resolution with myself.
I will never masturbate to porn again.
“As you breathe, listen to the sound of natural energy in the form of ocean waves.”
I managed to abstain from porn, only allowing myself to masturbate to fantasies inside my head, but if you go deep enough into the self-growth world, you’ll learn that even jerking off to your imagination isn’t good enough. I was told by several articles that compulsive, fantasy-based masturbation can be just as damaging as porn. That’s why I am doing this guided meditation.
“Relax into your body and imagine the ocean waves crashing on the shore.”
The only healthy way to masturbate in the self-growth world was conscious, embodied masturbation. That meant no visual aids, i.e. porn, and no sexual fantasies, which only serve to disconnect you from your body. As a novice to this practice, I found a recorded masturbation meditation to help guide me through the process.
“When you are ready, I want you to imagine a big, heavy box. This is your energy conversion box. Place in the box all of your worries, anxieties and concerns. If you are drawn to any sexual fantasies, place these in the box as well. You will not need them during this exercise.”
I imagine a big metal box with a circular lid. There is a skinny brunette girl standing next to it, displaying the imaginary vault to me like a model at a car show. She is wearing a miniskirt and her hair is in pigtails.
Go on, get in the box, I tell her. She has little black hearts drawn beneath her eyes.
She makes a pouty face, puts her fists on her hips and kicks out her leg in protest.
Go on, get in there. I don’t need you for this, I say.
She rolls her eyes and climbs on top of the box.
That’s good, I say. Now get in.
She approaches the opening, then she turns toward me and pulls up her shirt.
No. I don’t want that right now, I say. Get in the box, I say.
She makes an angry face and jumps in like she is diving into a pool.
Except her ass gets stuck. She is stuck in the entrance to my energy conversion box, legs kicking back and forth with her skirt piled around her.
“With everything in your energy conversion box, close the heavy lid and leave it behind you.”
Crap. The meditation is moving on without me. I leave her flailing there and try to clear my mind.
“As you breathe in, imagine your head filling with a bright ball of sexual energy.”
I try to imagine what a ball of sexual energy looks like.
“As your head is filling up with this bright sexual energy, begin to touch yourself gently on your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids. Do what feels good to you.”
I’m touching my face and actively trying not to think about the girl in my energy conversion box.
“Send that sexual energy down to your throat and begin touching your neck as that bright ball of energy begins to heal your throat chakra.”
“You can do whatever you want to my throat,” the girl says.
What are you doing here? I told you to stay in the box.
“I’m just along for the ride,” she says, winking.
Great.
“Now send that ball of glowing sexual energy down to your heart. You can now begin touching your chest and nipples. Try to keep the touches gentle and playful as the ball of sexual energy heals your heart.”
I’m touching my chest while she shows me hers.
“Will you cum on my heart chakra, pretty please?” Her shirt is nowhere to be seen. She pushes her tits together and makes that pouty face again.
No. You’re unhealthy. You’re a toxic distraction. Let me masturbate in peace.
“Continue to breathe and as your belly expands, send that ball of healing sexual energy down into your stomach. Follow it with your hands and begin touching yourself there.”
I’m doing my best to rub my belly in a sensual motion. I try to put the girl out of my mind. I try to lock her away in the energy conversion box.
I am here. I am in my body. I am rubbing my belly.
“Now take a deep breath in and send that sexual energy all the way down into your genitals. Mmm, that’s it. You may feel a tingling sensation. This is totally normal. Breathe that sexual energy to life in your genitals.”
Finally, we’re at the dick. I grab it and frantically try to jerk some life into my listless manhood.
“You may now, if you wish, begin to touch your genitals. Start off slowly. Feel around your entire genital area. Find areas that feel good to you.”
Fine. I let go of my dick and begin tracing lines along my thighs with my fingers. It actually doesn’t feel too bad.
“Stay here and breathe. Continue touching yourself slowly and intentionally.”
“You look like you could use a little help there.” She’s back, still in her miniskirt and pigtails.
Go. Away.
“You’re never going to get yourself hard that way. Let me give you a helping hand,” she says. “Or mouth.”
“If you are experiencing any thoughts of sexual fantasy, simply let them drift away and return to your body.”
I imagine the girl dissolving into tiny little pieces and floating away in a gust of wind. I am here. I am in my body. I am pulling on my limp dick.
“Remember. The point of masturbation is not to simply cruise to orgasm, but to feel good in your body during the process.”
Without a fantasy in my head, I might as well be pulling on my finger.
“You won’t be able to do this without me,” she says. She’s between my legs now. “Let me just have a little taste.”
I concede to this fantasy girl in my imagination. She’s right. I won’t even be able to get hard without her.
“You may now increase the tempo. Remember to breathe and imagine that ball of healing sexual energy getting even brighter.”
I imagine her sucking on my cock with her cute little mouth and filled lips. I get hard immediately. This is exactly what I’m not supposed to be imagining, but I do it anyway.
The thing about black-and-white thinking is that you always end up breaking the resolutions you make. You break them because you’re not really after the success.
“Imagine the ball of healing sexual energy filling your whole body up.”
You’re after the shame. Shame is a drug more powerful than any other and there is a part of me that actively seeks to break any resolution I make just in order to feel it.
“Now release that sexual energy. Let it all out. Imagine it is covering the world with its healing power.”
“Please… I want you to finish,” she says. “Give it all to me.”
Her earnest supplication sends me over the edge. I reach the point of no return and imagine covering this girl with my white hot healing energy.
“Now, in this relaxed state and heightened emotion, I want you to visualize your ideal future. Feel in your body what it would feel like to be living that future now. Whatever you manifest in this state is bound to happen in the real world. It is the law.”
I try to visualize what I want out of life, but all I can think about is this girl covered in my cum, winking at me and playing with her nipples.