I have always regarded pornography as my opium

I have always regarded pornography as my opium, and read the great opium exploits of Coleridge and Thomas de Quincey’s Confessions of an English Opium Eater in that light. For its curative properties, its restorative properties, its health benefits, its consolations, pornography seemed absolutely the match for opium. If I am suddenly frightened, and turned to ice, and my blood run cold, I put some delicious pornographic picture on my phone and look at that for a few moments until I feel that pleasurable warm sensation of an erection stirring, then I can go on with all fear forgotten. If I am feeling deathly tired and cannot keep my eyes open or my head upright, I just need to watch a few pornographic clips to become absolutely mentally razor sharp and alert again, all fatigue gone. Drink, too, gives me confidence and banishes my mortifying shyness. Drink and pornography are my opium. Coleridge would never travel without having some opium in his bags, and I will never travel without some pornography always close to hand. If I ever run out while between destinations, I rush gasping for a big city like Vienna, or Munich, or Berlin, to replenish. Drugs as such, cigarettes, cocaine, marijuana and such like, I have never tried and have no desire to.