My Year of No Porn
This year, I swore to myself: no more porn.
It was my pleasure resolution. One I set with a mix of curiosity and hesitation at the end of last year. Now, three months in, I have zero regrets.
This was a very good decision for me.
Before I tell you why, let’s rewind a little…
Last year, I became reliant on p-rn. As in, I didn’t feel like I could masturbate without it. And honestly? It made sense. I was navigating huge, opposing shifts in my life — grief, depression, uncertainty. Dropping into my body for self-pleasure felt impossible.
That’s where p-rn came in. It gave me an easy escape from the emotional storm inside me while still offering a small pocket of pleasure. A perfect little loophole.
And I love that for past me. Truly.
But as the months passed, I started to notice something shifting. My sexuality felt less vibrant. My org-sms were shallower, emptier. I wasn’t listening to my body—I was actively avoiding it. This wasn’t about self-connection anymore. It wasn’t even really about pleasure.
It was about escaping myself, hoping to find some kind of release.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been here. I first stumbled upon p-rn on my boyfriend’s computer at 17, and it became a regular feature in my life. It gave me a rush like nothing else had. It was a place of discovery—the only real s-x education I had. And, for a while, it felt exhilarating. It felt like I had gained access to this sexual speakeasy that typically only admits boys. That felt pretty empowering to young me.
But even back then, something always felt… off.
Even, at 33, when I was being an conscious consumer, paying for ethical feminist p-rn, I was still left, atop my sheets, feeling a kind of s-xual indigestion.
You know that feeling when you pop open a bag of chips, scoff them mindlessly, and realise once you’re at the end of the bag that your body wanted you to stop ages ago and now you feel bleeehhhhhh? That.
So, at the end of last year, I made the call. No more. I wanted to reclaim my pleasure and listen to what my body called out for.
The first few weeks? Bumpy. Without my loophole, self-pleasure felt foreign. I had to relearn how to tune into my own arousal without an external stimulus dictating the pace.
But a month or so in, I started to feel more in sync with my body again! My orgasms became deeper, more expansive. I felt desire move through me in a way I hadn’t in years. I felt present. Connected. Alive. In love.
This isn’t me saying p-rn is evil. It’s a useful tool! But for me, it had become a distraction, a detour from the real intimacy I was craving with myself. Letting it go has been so freeing.
If any part of this resonates, I invite you to get curious. What does your pleasure really crave? What would happen if you listened a little more closely?
This journey inspired my upcoming offering. I'm excited to introduce...
Me Time.
Feminine Self-Pleasure Circle.
A live online even for women, vulva-owners, and femmes.
In this experience, I will guide you through a practice of self touch that you can take as far and as deep as your body tells you it’s ready for.
This could involve both non-sexual and sexual touch. You’ll follow your bodies yes and honour your boundaries.
You attend via Zoom, meaning you will have complete privacy during the experience. No one will be able to see or hear you. But you will feel the permission giving magic of coming together with others to connect with pleasure.
Before & after the circle, I will add you to my close friends story on IG, warming you up for the experience with pre-workshop tips and helping you digest with post workshop reflections.
Date: Wednesday 30th April
Time: 7:30pm - 8:30 pm NZT
Location: Online via Zoom (No recording)
Cost: $40 nzd
Women and femmes are taught to prioritise the pleasure of those around them.
In ‘Me Time’, we turn that conditioning on it’s head.
We claim, celebrate and relish in our pleasure.
Without apology.
Taking a step forwards in making this the new normal.
Because our pleasure is a gift to the world.