Malleable journal - nervous but hopeful
Posted: Wed Dec 11, 2024 9:48 am
Hi all. I’ve been a member in this forum for a number of months now. I think I first discovered it in late March or early April. Back then, I was trying out Trimix injections, which were still very iffy. Whether because the mix had gone bad or because I somehow wasn’t hitting my corporeal bodies, I guess I’ll never know. The few times they worked, they worked great. But the vast majority of times, they didn’t work, and I was just left wondering why I’d stuck a needle into the base of my penis.
Long story short, right after I turned 20 years old I went out for a bike ride on a trail near the river where I grew up. It was night, and there weren’t that many people on the trail. I had my headlamp on for safety, but I couldn’t see someone coming right toward me at a high speed because he was wearing black and, as I would later learn, was wearing loud headphones. I was going up a small hill, and he was coming down the same hill. As soon as we saw each other, it was too late.
We collided head-on, and both got pretty badly injured. I got the wind knocked out of me, was worried I was going to choke to death, was seeing stars. I might have passed out for a second. When I came to, I was in excruciating pain. Our front wheels were bent, and my chain was snapped. The guy I collided with was also writhing around in pain. Incredibly, I wasn’t cut badly and didn’t appear to have broken anything.
Being 20 years old, I was young and dumb and while I didn’t feel invincible, I thought I’d be able to “walk it off.” After my sister picked me up from the accident, she urged me to go to the hospital. But again, I was stupid and didn’t take her advice. Instead, we stopped at a convenience store for bags of ice and when I got home, I sat in a tub full of ice water, popping ibuprofen and drinking tea and hoping for the best. The bruising was already hideous even just a few hours later, across my chest and down my leg. It took months for the bruising to fade, and nearly a year for the last of it to fully dissipate.
For those wondering why the hell I did it this way: Looking back, I completely agree with you. But I come from a difficult upbringing with narcissistic parents and was afraid at what the fall-out from this situation would have been, so I downplayed it and tried to avoid any kind of confrontation. Eventually they found out, but it was months later and it seemed irrelevant—I was asked what happened to my bicycle, and I had to explain the situation. By then, it didn’t matter. It seemed at the time that the condition of my expensive bicycle was more important than what happened to me.
The next morning, I realized that my penis and testicles were numb, and extremely tender to the touch. During my morning piss, the weirdest sensation was felt. Like lots of tiny grains of sand or glass pouring out of me, instead of liquid. Given that this had something to do with my genitalia, and how I didn’t want to arouse suspicion in my household, I again said nothing about it and thought, “Well, maybe this will resolve in a couple weeks.” The pain went away in a few days, but the numbness continued for a couple weeks before dissipating. And then I just didn’t think about it for a little while.
That is, until I needed to have sex. I had the most beautiful girlfriend at the time. She was a dead ringer for Lily Christine, the famous burlesque dancer from the 1940s. We met in college, which was several states away for me, and when we finally got back together at the end of that summer, she freaked out. Why was I covered in bruises? How come I didn’t tell her about what happened? It was an emotional conversation. But then, of course, we wanted to have sex.
And then I just couldn’t. I was lifeless. The desire was there in my mind, but it was like my penis wasn’t receiving the signal. I chalked it up to the emotional conversation and we snuggled and made out, instead. For the record, I finished her off with my mouth and hands and pleased her as well as anyone could given the circumstances. But inside, I was panicking. In the moment, I’d never seen a woman more disappointed in my life. I felt like a complete and total failure.
A couple months prior, if she even looked at me the right way I’d have a solid erection that wouldn’t go away until it was dealt with properly. We were having sex like four or five times a day, sometimes more. And then it all went away, more or less instantly. She broke things off with me just a few weeks later, and I grew to be more and more ashamed at what had happened to me.
I had an older friend in his 40s who I confided with, and he told me that he had a personal stash of Viagra and that it saved his marriage. He wasn’t the healthiest guy, necessarily, so I figure he just needed to be in better shape. But I tried it, and took an entire 100mg pill. And boom, it worked. It was like magic. But the side effects were pretty terrible. Headaches, flushing, stomach issues, and my vision would change and get glossy or blurry. But I was willing to bite down on the bit and make this work.
Fast-forward from age 21 to age 34. I’ve been relying on Viagra and Cialis pretty comfortably for all those years, but now the benefits have started to fade with time. This, despite the fact that I’ve arguably remained in great shape throughout that whole time. My bloodwork is great, I don’t have any other chronic health issues. My cardio performance is great. My performance in what’s called the “Norwegian 4x4” cardio training style is excellent. At age 34, my max heart rate is comfortably in in the mid-180s.
Anyway, the Viagra is not exactly spontaneous. You have to time things just right. You have to avoid eating too much food, or drinking too much. In my case, anyway, it feels like a science experiment where I’m working against a clock and the conditions of the evening. And of course you can’t just keep popping the pills because you’re not supposed to take more than 100mg in a single 24-hour period.
The consequence of this is that I wasn’t having nearly enough sex to keep women interested, even if I was blowing their minds a couple times a week. And my sexual anxiety never went away. Every single time I popped a Viagra, I worried: Did I time this just right? Did I eat too much, or not enough? What if it doesn’t work this time? What if I finish too early, am I going to be able to continue? And so on, and so on. If a woman wanted spontaneous sex, I had to come up with an excuse. And I hate that.
Earlier this year, I decided that my sexual issues have ruined my life for the last time. I was in a relationship with a beautiful woman. We meshed really well. But I could tell that this problem was eroding her trust in me, and it was making the depression that I already struggle with even worse. I was using Trimix with her and, like I mentioned, had some success, but the rate of success just wasn’t high enough for me to justify it, and it only made my anxiety about sexual performance worse. This time, I broke things off with her before she had a chance to realize just how bad things might become. I still think about her a lot, and wonder what might have been if things weren’t a problem. I feel pathetic, since I imagine she’s already fully moved on.
Finally, I decided to take the plunge and go for an implant. After watching seemingly endless YouTube videos from world-famous urologists like Mo Khera and Paul Perito and many others, reading endless PubMed journal articles, and of course reading and participating in the FrankTalk forum for these months, it’s happening. I’m getting a Tactra, after all the considerations about IPP failures, the added complication, slightly increased risk of infection, and so on. Also, I’m self-pay, so there’s a cost component here, as well.
The surgery is tomorrow morning. I chose a high-volume surgeon in Laurence Levine in Chicago. Other doctors and nurses and medical professionals I’ve met have said that he’s a real artist, and is one of the best surgeons in the world, especially for this procedure. But still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I vacillate between feeling really determined and feeling like I’m basically on death row. I really want everything to work out. I’m desperate to have a normal love life. I nearly have tears in my eyes as I type these words.
I’ll be keeping you all updated about my progress tomorrow and in the coming weeks. Thanks so much for reading this saga. I really appreciate all of you. Soon, with a little bit of luck, I’ll be solidly living my life as a member of the bionic brotherhood.
UPDATE: I am now getting a Coloplast Genesis instead of the Tactra.
Long story short, right after I turned 20 years old I went out for a bike ride on a trail near the river where I grew up. It was night, and there weren’t that many people on the trail. I had my headlamp on for safety, but I couldn’t see someone coming right toward me at a high speed because he was wearing black and, as I would later learn, was wearing loud headphones. I was going up a small hill, and he was coming down the same hill. As soon as we saw each other, it was too late.
We collided head-on, and both got pretty badly injured. I got the wind knocked out of me, was worried I was going to choke to death, was seeing stars. I might have passed out for a second. When I came to, I was in excruciating pain. Our front wheels were bent, and my chain was snapped. The guy I collided with was also writhing around in pain. Incredibly, I wasn’t cut badly and didn’t appear to have broken anything.
Being 20 years old, I was young and dumb and while I didn’t feel invincible, I thought I’d be able to “walk it off.” After my sister picked me up from the accident, she urged me to go to the hospital. But again, I was stupid and didn’t take her advice. Instead, we stopped at a convenience store for bags of ice and when I got home, I sat in a tub full of ice water, popping ibuprofen and drinking tea and hoping for the best. The bruising was already hideous even just a few hours later, across my chest and down my leg. It took months for the bruising to fade, and nearly a year for the last of it to fully dissipate.
For those wondering why the hell I did it this way: Looking back, I completely agree with you. But I come from a difficult upbringing with narcissistic parents and was afraid at what the fall-out from this situation would have been, so I downplayed it and tried to avoid any kind of confrontation. Eventually they found out, but it was months later and it seemed irrelevant—I was asked what happened to my bicycle, and I had to explain the situation. By then, it didn’t matter. It seemed at the time that the condition of my expensive bicycle was more important than what happened to me.
The next morning, I realized that my penis and testicles were numb, and extremely tender to the touch. During my morning piss, the weirdest sensation was felt. Like lots of tiny grains of sand or glass pouring out of me, instead of liquid. Given that this had something to do with my genitalia, and how I didn’t want to arouse suspicion in my household, I again said nothing about it and thought, “Well, maybe this will resolve in a couple weeks.” The pain went away in a few days, but the numbness continued for a couple weeks before dissipating. And then I just didn’t think about it for a little while.
That is, until I needed to have sex. I had the most beautiful girlfriend at the time. She was a dead ringer for Lily Christine, the famous burlesque dancer from the 1940s. We met in college, which was several states away for me, and when we finally got back together at the end of that summer, she freaked out. Why was I covered in bruises? How come I didn’t tell her about what happened? It was an emotional conversation. But then, of course, we wanted to have sex.
And then I just couldn’t. I was lifeless. The desire was there in my mind, but it was like my penis wasn’t receiving the signal. I chalked it up to the emotional conversation and we snuggled and made out, instead. For the record, I finished her off with my mouth and hands and pleased her as well as anyone could given the circumstances. But inside, I was panicking. In the moment, I’d never seen a woman more disappointed in my life. I felt like a complete and total failure.
A couple months prior, if she even looked at me the right way I’d have a solid erection that wouldn’t go away until it was dealt with properly. We were having sex like four or five times a day, sometimes more. And then it all went away, more or less instantly. She broke things off with me just a few weeks later, and I grew to be more and more ashamed at what had happened to me.
I had an older friend in his 40s who I confided with, and he told me that he had a personal stash of Viagra and that it saved his marriage. He wasn’t the healthiest guy, necessarily, so I figure he just needed to be in better shape. But I tried it, and took an entire 100mg pill. And boom, it worked. It was like magic. But the side effects were pretty terrible. Headaches, flushing, stomach issues, and my vision would change and get glossy or blurry. But I was willing to bite down on the bit and make this work.
Fast-forward from age 21 to age 34. I’ve been relying on Viagra and Cialis pretty comfortably for all those years, but now the benefits have started to fade with time. This, despite the fact that I’ve arguably remained in great shape throughout that whole time. My bloodwork is great, I don’t have any other chronic health issues. My cardio performance is great. My performance in what’s called the “Norwegian 4x4” cardio training style is excellent. At age 34, my max heart rate is comfortably in in the mid-180s.
Anyway, the Viagra is not exactly spontaneous. You have to time things just right. You have to avoid eating too much food, or drinking too much. In my case, anyway, it feels like a science experiment where I’m working against a clock and the conditions of the evening. And of course you can’t just keep popping the pills because you’re not supposed to take more than 100mg in a single 24-hour period.
The consequence of this is that I wasn’t having nearly enough sex to keep women interested, even if I was blowing their minds a couple times a week. And my sexual anxiety never went away. Every single time I popped a Viagra, I worried: Did I time this just right? Did I eat too much, or not enough? What if it doesn’t work this time? What if I finish too early, am I going to be able to continue? And so on, and so on. If a woman wanted spontaneous sex, I had to come up with an excuse. And I hate that.
Earlier this year, I decided that my sexual issues have ruined my life for the last time. I was in a relationship with a beautiful woman. We meshed really well. But I could tell that this problem was eroding her trust in me, and it was making the depression that I already struggle with even worse. I was using Trimix with her and, like I mentioned, had some success, but the rate of success just wasn’t high enough for me to justify it, and it only made my anxiety about sexual performance worse. This time, I broke things off with her before she had a chance to realize just how bad things might become. I still think about her a lot, and wonder what might have been if things weren’t a problem. I feel pathetic, since I imagine she’s already fully moved on.
Finally, I decided to take the plunge and go for an implant. After watching seemingly endless YouTube videos from world-famous urologists like Mo Khera and Paul Perito and many others, reading endless PubMed journal articles, and of course reading and participating in the FrankTalk forum for these months, it’s happening. I’m getting a Tactra, after all the considerations about IPP failures, the added complication, slightly increased risk of infection, and so on. Also, I’m self-pay, so there’s a cost component here, as well.
The surgery is tomorrow morning. I chose a high-volume surgeon in Laurence Levine in Chicago. Other doctors and nurses and medical professionals I’ve met have said that he’s a real artist, and is one of the best surgeons in the world, especially for this procedure. But still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I vacillate between feeling really determined and feeling like I’m basically on death row. I really want everything to work out. I’m desperate to have a normal love life. I nearly have tears in my eyes as I type these words.
I’ll be keeping you all updated about my progress tomorrow and in the coming weeks. Thanks so much for reading this saga. I really appreciate all of you. Soon, with a little bit of luck, I’ll be solidly living my life as a member of the bionic brotherhood.
UPDATE: I am now getting a Coloplast Genesis instead of the Tactra.