Does Being A Pervert Make Me Such A Bad Person?

SEX, SEX, and more SEX= My average thoughts on an average day.
I’m not really certain if I should really write this one, but since I’ve went as far as putting my laptop on my lap I might as well. Welcome to forth base.

A woman breastfed next to me the other day, I couldn’t help but stare at her “titties”, so much that she had to stop and I felt so horrible as the baby started crying, the little man must have been not full. This other time I worked as a security guard, and this man and his wife had just purchased underwear for the Mrs., and as they walked out my alarm beeped and I had to search for tags still stuck in their packaged, and as I opened it my eyes glowed like a boy with a new toy, and the husband whispered in my ear; “Merry Christmas son”.


Does it all make me a bad person? Yes I sniff panties, masturbate, and randomly stare at strange women and fantasize about having sex with them.
My granny would be so ashamed of me, she raised me by the ways of Christianity and I know that fantasizing about adultery is a sin as actually committing it, but the last time I went to church I got an erection in the Lord’s house as I sat behind a lady with a booty so big that I could see the panties line underneath her long skirt, but then again I always have been so “vigilant”, hallelujah.

That was back in 2005 or 6, I’m a grown man now but I still have hormones of a 16 year old boy, and they embarrass me every day.
I often feel like Don Jon, my relationships often include me, girlfriend, dirty Facebook and twitter pages, pornhub and Vaseline, so my righted hand still aches as it did back in high school.


Does this entire make me a bad person, or just a shallow one?

I still read, write, treat other people well, pray to God (although I no longer go to church), and pay my taxes, but, I’d still sleep with the 1st lady that might walk through that door.

Does that make me such a bad person?



A Letter To My Daughter

Dear Princess

First things first, I just want you to know that I love you and your mother so much that I decided to tell you this short story of me and her;
When we started dating she was still in school, I was also a young man myself and so I made a stupid mistake to ask her to let me have a second girlfriend (had already spotted one), she agreed to it given we break up, and so we did, but in less than four days I was already crawling back to her and begging to be taken back, luckily she did. From that day I respected her so much for she had shown me that she knew exactly what she wanted in a man, and was not willing to settle for anything lesser than that.

Everyone is just looking for love, whether they show it or not, but they’re all desperately yearning for some affection. The most quite kid in class wants the same attention as the loudest one, they just differ in their means to get it; whilst the loud one hopes to get noticed for his “visibility”, the quite one hopes to get noticed for his invisibility. A preacher wants the same attention as a thug, a nun as a prostitute, a Ballard dancer as a stripper, and even God as the devil.

This might sound too cliché, but the only way to get loved by other people is to first love yourself. Think about it, if you fail to see something worth loving in your own self, what makes you think others will see it first? They will only treat you as you treat yourself. Value yourself, be special just the way you are, and never change for no one, for everyone worth being in your life will love and appreciate you just the way you are.

Look in the mirror and say; “boys are not my God’, and repeat it as many times as necessary. It really doesn’t matter how many other girls might want him too, if he only wears Versace clothes and looks like Justin Timberlake, he is still not your God, never worship him. Give him the real you, never sell yourself short because you’re beautiful just the way you are. Still on the subject of boys; Sex is not love. That is, just because he wants to have sex with you, doesn’t necessarily mean that he loves you, and sadly, if he didn’t love you with your clothes on, he still probably won’t with them off either.

Have standards, have class, and never settle for anything lesser than you’re worth. Never demand in others what you cannot get in yourself; never ask for a rich husband without firstly being a rich wife yourself, and before asking for a good man, be a good woman first. Be the prototype of what you’d like to see in the world [in your world].

Being beautiful is not being naked; keep your clothes on baby. Forget what fashion magazines say; no half torn leggings, red lipsticks, pushup bras, and all the make-up in the world can make you beautiful as your character can, beauty is far deeper than just mere physical looks. What’s inside of you, how you think, talk and act is what really matters, and not just a Beyoncé look. Do not just look beautiful, be beautiful.

We live in a very judgmental society, so choose your clothes, tattoos, and lifestyle very carefully because you will be judged based on them. Your behavior on social media will have a huge effect as well; so [too] short skirts, inner thigh tattoos, and vulgar as you Instagram your selfies showing buttocks will say something about you as well, ensure it is what you want people to hear.

Your body is yours and yours alone. Embrace it graciously, respect and protect it, never allow it to be the first thing people recognize in you, be more of a spiritual being than just physical. And lastly, you owe your body to nobody but God. It is his temple after all, and not boys’.

I love you so much baby, and I can’t wait to meet you.

Love, Dad.

“Reading A Magazine”

Today I woke up feeling like I’m sixteen all over again, and I remembered discovering how “reading a magazine” for the 1st time actually felt like. The relationship is rather contradictory, from the thrill of the adrenalin, the blood rush, the pacing imagination and the indescribable pleasure upon “reaching…………..the last page”, and the uncomfortable insults and judgments passed by young men (who are quite “literate” themselves) to those who publicly admit their “literacy”.

Funny how when we were younger we talked about “the actual do” all the time and we all claimed to have had done it before, and with female companions at that. No one would figure out the other friends were lying as much as themselves. I guess we were all too concern with protecting our own “I’ve done it before” lies that we wouldn’t even notice that our dearest friends were doing the exact same thing. Not only that, we’d also miss that we all knew the very same female friends so if two people “hooked up” it would inevitably come out somehow, but a young naïve mind would just take their friend’s word, honor they friend’s request to not ask the about it and overlook that you know how disgusted she gets at a slightest sound of any word that starts with letter “S for…………”, for it is said to be a biblical sin, and she’d never attempt it till marriage.

One evening we were just talking about “ lonesome literature” when the usual insults and judgments were thrown at those who “do it”, still puzzles me how we all still had the ability to raise our righted hands to point fingers even though they ached so bad, from “flipping the pages” obviously. And then this one friend of mine stepped up and said “my name is……, I stay up late every night after my parents have long gone to bed, I watch “grown up” movies and then it becomes extremely hard to sleep, as these graphic images replay in my head I go to the bathroom, lock myself inside and…………………. “Read a magazine”. I cannot even find the words to describe the shock, the confusion and that sense of relief the rest of the group felt as he went on as far as saying it was nothing to be ashamed of and he feels no shame sharing it, not even now.

He’s a true pioneer, a legend. Can you picture the guilt he freed me of as I was struggling with my teenage years, because hey, it was almost mission impossible to bump into “active” ladies back in my day. I eventually grew comfortable with the idea, so much that I even found humor in it, and other scholars” started sharing their experiences as well, from those who did it in a sock on to avoid messiness (such as myself), those in a toilet bowl (such as my friend), and to my personal favorite; a true scholar who did it with his legs crossed watching TV with his parents, he must have been a Karate black belt holder because he would just put it in between his legs apparently, apply friction with them until he “reached ………………. the last page”, he would then only leave for the bathroom afterwards to “wipe” off.

The lesson here is; it is completely normal for young people to explore their bodies in this nature”. So there is nothing wrong with you my young friend, so you really have nothing to be ashamed of.

Thank you. See you next Tuesday.