Why I Quit Porn
- Cieran Brown
- 2 hours ago
- 5 min read
With porn consumption linked to increased anxiety, depression and loneliness among men, I reveal my own porn use and what led me to stop.
After being single for most of my 30’s and finding my self-esteem and body confidence at an all-time low, I decided to quit porn. I had always struggled with my use, which had morphed from an exploration of my sexuality into an unhealthy habit. As a British writer with an interest in culture and men's wellness, I share my personal journey and examine societal concerns around men's porn use.
Dirty Mags to Dial-Up Internet
My use of porn started as a child in the early 90s when I discovered my father’s collection of mags hidden at the back of a drawer. Before this, I was exposed to the occasional dramatic sex scene on TV and The Sun’s infamous Page 3 models, which, in the laissez-faire parenting of millennial children, was not that unusual.
What started as an innocent fascination quickly turned into something more concerning, as I found myself relying on porn not only for pleasure, but for a quick hit when feeling low — something that my awkward teenage years only exacerbated.
Then, as I entered college, came the first major milestone in my porn use — the PC with dial-up internet. I was preparing to study Computing at university, so its use was warranted, but in those early days of the World Wide Web, I’m not sure how much my parents knew about the Pandora’s box they had unwittingly delivered.
Suddenly, I had access to as much content as my appetite desired, as well as a wide range of porn categories, which I was unaccustomed to. Some of these were alien to me, but as a young man, I was curious and explored — this was the era of the dubious American Pie films, after all.
Habit Forming, Tolerance Increasing
Around this time, I started to notice a pattern. I would typically use porn when I was feeling low, which would only make me feel worse and result in me seeking more. This increasingly compulsive use would leave me with guilt and shame, making this addictive cycle difficult to break.
My tolerance also increased, as I needed more novel things to give me the same feeling. Aided by high-speed internet video, the content I consumed became more niche and graphic. This was in contrast to who I identified with as a young man, and this schism between public and private life continued to cause emotional distress well into my 20’s, as I found it hard to maintain eye contact and I developed an inner narrative that there was something wrong with me.
Another side effect was reduced arousal in real-world encounters and a degree of sexual dysfunction, which left me dissatisfied in my relationships and ultimately resulted in more porn use. What had begun as a bit of pre-teen curiosity had already shifted and shaped my sexual habits and expectations to an unhealthy degree.
Breaking the Cycle
During these years, I attempted to rectify my addiction by seeking solace in the subforums of Reddit. I came across the NoFap movement, which encouraged individuals to overcome pornography addiction and compulsive sexual behaviours by abstaining from porn and masturbation. Participants would often do a 90-day ‘reboot’ challenge, which many claimed reset their sexual habits and provided a range of benefits from mental clarity to improved confidence.
I tried variations of these challenges on and off for a few years, which helped me to develop some self-control, but when a decade-long illness and bereavement stopped me in my tracks, my habit resumed. However, as I approached my 40th year, I reflected deeply on my porn use and asked myself if I still wanted to be consuming it in 10 years' time. The thought of spiralling further into addiction troubled me, and so I decided to quit.
After a rocky couple of months, during which I felt despondent and emotionally unstable, I began to notice some positive changes: I felt happier, lighter, and less moody. The shame shrank, and the longer I went without looking at porn, the less I missed it. I realised just how far my ‘innocent’ habit had gone, and I was grateful that I had made the change then, rather than letting it continue.
After a year, I found my body confidence improved, and my relationship with perceived beauty and what I found erotic was a lot healthier. I even met and fell in love with my partner and now find myself three years into the most contented and committed relationship of my life - something that I doubt would have happened if I were still consuming.
A Wider Problem
Looking back, I don’t think I was in the minority with my behaviour. Television and Radio presenter Ore Oduba shared recently that he had struggled with his own porn consumption from a young age and called it “the perfect taboo”. Research suggests that 15% of British men view porn two or three times a week, and a survey suggests a gender gap between men's and women's porn use and acceptance in heterosexual relationships.
The stigma around porn addiction and men’s reluctance to discuss it means that a public health crisis is looming. This has no doubt led to the rise of the manosphere, as the extreme behaviour seen in porn is normalised, together with the unhealthy relationship dynamics and unrealistic expectations of sex and body types.
This is all the more worrying when statistics show that most boys first encounter porn at 13, becoming regular consumers from 16-17, and four in 10 teenage girls are coerced into sex acts commonly seen in porn, such as choking. The UK Government's recent Online Safety Bill is intended to counter this and protect those most at risk, at an age when their brains aren’t fully equipped to deal with such content.
Society
So now, looking from the other side, I find myself asking: does porn reflect society, or is society reflected in porn?
The way mainstream porn and society at large glamorise certain trends, such as valuing youth and beauty above all else, has always been problematic. This ties into wider societal problems like the male gaze, consent and violence towards women, which were with us long before the modern trend for consuming porn and reflect a patriarchal worldview.
I’ve had conversations with male friends who don’t understand my concerns and don’t see their use as problematic, despite my protestations. I’m sure that some men’s porn use is moderate, but my fear is that not enough men are speaking up about the dangers or seeking help when it becomes problematic.
Rewards
As I move into my fourth year without porn, I still have my challenges. Social media occasionally throws up something designed to lure me in, where I feel the remnants of an old, hardwired habit deep in the recesses of my brain. However, the rewards in my own life are evident. My body confidence and mental health have rocketed, and the intimacy I get to experience with my partner makes it more than worth it. I no longer feel like I am living a double life, and I can finally look people in the eye without shame.
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