Voyeuristic Cuckoldry and the Boy Who Was Picked Last

Becoming a therapist was never on my bingo card.

Neither was becoming an IV meth addict who almost died from a
flesh-eating bacteria. Even my high school friends got it wrong with
“most likely to be in a boy band.” Though to be fair, the frosted tips and
Backstreet swagger probably tipped them off.

But what no one saw—not even me—was the insecurity and inner chaos
I carried. And I was in the popular crowd. I had tons of friends, plenty of
dates. Still, I felt lost. The pressure to “be someone” in the late 90s and
early 2000s pulled me away from figuring out who I actually was.

Fast forward 25 years. I’ve battled a 15-year addiction, pursued and
struggled through the grind of an acting career in Los Angeles, and have
been clean for over seven years. Today, I’m a therapist helping young
men face the same insecurities I once tried to outrun.

The insecurity I knew in high school has evolved into something else
entirely. Today’s teens are up against a superstimulus that didn’t exist
back then; smartphones, high speed internet, and yes, porn.

Writing a blog about the risks of porn was also not on my bingo card. I
grew up in a liberal, sex positive environment. The “free love” energy of
the 60s was still alive in my household. What consenting adults do in
front of or behind a camera doesn’t bother me. If someone wants to
scream like they’re being exorcised mid-orgasm, I say bravo.

And yet, the harm I’m seeing is undeniable.

Like how a childhood diet of sugar can lead to Type 2 diabetes, constant
exposure to internet porn is leading to a kind of emotional diabetes. A
dulling of self-worth, connection, and the ability to experience real