My Girlfriend and My Story

The reason I chose this topic is because I'm confused. In the eyes of many friends and even strangers, I'm a truly upright gentleman, while I feel I've always been quite vulgar. This stems from childhood trauma and the feelings brought about by different experiences as an adult. I want to tell my true story so that women can better understand men and so that all "bad" men can find liberation.

I was born in the late 1960s, receiving both a repressive, ascetic education that suppressed human nature and the unbridled indulgence of contemporary society during its transformation. This contrast, like being tempered in fire, forged my rigidity, but left my soul wounded.

First of all, I possess the basic elements of a near-successful man: I served in the military, attended military academy, joined the Party, served time in prison (released without charge), and recently divorced (in a sexless marriage). He endured immense hardship: sleeping on the streets, selling newspapers, being beaten to the point of near death by seven men, his body and soul bearing the marks of his father's beatings; eating coarse cornbread and pickled vegetables in prison, being doused with cold water in winter; serving in the army, standing guard, feeding pigs, growing vegetables, and undergoing rigorous training; suffering from illness, once rolling on the ground for seven days straight due to a kidney stone attack. He also enjoyed immense happiness: flowers, applause, countless certificates of honor, beautiful women, luxury cars, five-star hotels, abalone and shark fin, the humility of subordinates, the admiration of friends, and the adoration of his son… His life was rich and extreme. Different experiences brought different perspectives at different stages.

1. Let me start from childhood. I remember being curious about girls when I was in kindergarten. Back then, there was no gender distinction in the toilets, and I liked watching girls pee because I thought their genitals were very attractive. When we bathed, female teachers led us in the large public bathhouse, and I thought the teachers' pubic hair was unattractive and disliked it. I remember once a mischievous boy, taking advantage of the teacher's inattention, reached out and pulled off one of her genitals. The teacher was furious and yelled, "You little brat, how can you be so indecent!"

That was my first understanding of the concept of "indecent." From then on, I dared not look at girls urinating anymore, and I was filled with lingering fear. Until I started elementary school, I felt I was becoming increasingly indecent, always having the urge to look at girls' genitals. I hated myself then, but I just couldn't control the thoughts. Finally, I had the opportunity when playing with some neighborhood kids at my house.

I was playing with a brother and sister; the sister was a year younger than me. We played a game similar to house, like pretending to be doctors giving injections, taking turns being the doctor. And of course, giving injections meant showing your bottom, and once again I saw what I longed for. Looking back now, it wasn't really a wicked thought; it was probably just an instinct brought by nature. I just liked to look, loved to look, and never got tired of looking. Later, I suggested we stop with the injections and just look at each other—you look at mine, I look at yours, no one loses out. The girl was actually very happy about it. Just then, my older sister suddenly returned, and she was with her female classmate. We hadn't even had time to put on our pants, which shocked her: "You! You're being a pervert at home! I'll tell Dad!" Her classmate also said, "Your brother is such a pervert!" I was utterly ashamed, finally realizing that I was indeed what people called a pervert, and that the term only applied to boys.

For this, I received a severe beating from my father. At the age of seven, I received my first punishment for being a pervert.

The connotation of "pervert" increasingly took on new meanings. My smug sister often labeled many things she did to me as perverted, even saying that crossing my legs while sleeping was a perverted act. Once, while playing on a sandcastle, a little girl in a skirt stepped over it, trampling on my sandcastle. I looked up and scolded her, and she immediately retorted: "You filthy pervert, looking at my crotch!" I was speechless...

For the next few years, I behaved myself very well, cautiously avoiding any further actions, restraining myself, and trying to stay away from girls as much as possible. But finally, when I was 10, the problem resurfaced. My innocence lay in the fact that it wasn't my fault, yet I couldn't help but let it run rampant.

She was my classmate and also a neighbor in the same compound, like childhood sweethearts. We went to school together during the day and did our homework together at night. In my memory, she looked like a doll (she now lives abroad), and I really enjoyed being with her. One day after school, a group of mischievous classmates were walking along, teasing each other. One said to another, "You get hard as soon as you see a girl, hehehehe..."

On Sunday, I went to her house to do my homework, and she asked me curiously, "Do boys really get hard as soon as they see a girl?" I was both nervous and excited, suddenly realizing for the first time that my penis really was hard. After a long pause, I said embarrassedly, "Maybe." She stared at me with wide eyes and laughed, "Really? That's funny. Are you hard too?" I said blankly, "Yes—" She smiled and thought for a moment, then said, "Hey, I want to see yours." I was shocked, my mind went blank. What I least expected was that there were female perverts!

All my self-discipline crumbled. We finally reached an agreement: first, no one could tell; second, after she looked at mine, I had the right to look at hers. In the end, she looked at mine to my heart's content, but only let me glance at hers. It wasn't

until I grew up that I learned what exhibitionism was. My high school girlfriend once tearfully told me that on her way home, a man in a military overcoat suddenly rushed up to her, pulled up his coat, and revealed his pants were down, showing her an adult man's penis for the first time without any warning! She felt very wronged. Hearing this, I thought of my elementary school classmate and secretly felt that she had nothing to be wronged about; she had seen someone else's things, while the poor bastard hadn't even gotten to see hers. Exhibitionism actually reflects the difference between humans and beasts, illustrating from another perspective that a man's (even if mentally flawed) pleasure is based on the other person's response; he derives a sense of conquest from a woman's fear or even crying. Therefore, a woman only needs to show contempt to make such a man weak.

Exhibitionism is an extreme psychological distortion. I think many instincts are hidden in everyone's heart. Most people rely on their conscious mind to control their reason. Under certain inducements, a certain hidden instinct is stimulated and allowed to develop, which becomes a perversion. When I was a child, I liked to watch girls urinate or bathe. In fact, these were instincts under the guise of morality. If they were not controlled, they might have developed into voyeurism.

Now, looking back, I also had exhibitionist desires. At that time, I was still young and in the process of sexual awakening. I didn't understand the nature of the "work" between the sexes. I just had desires and wanted to find a way to release them.

When I was in the fourth grade of elementary school, one day in class, I felt itchy down there (during puberty). When I touched it, it felt solid. At that time, pants were buttoned, unlike now where almost all pants are zippers. I unbuttoned one button so that I could put my hand inside. Soon, my penis became hard like a small wooden stick. (Now even people think it's impossible for such a young child to have an erection.) My deskmate was a girl. She was the worst student in our class at the time, from a poor family, sloppy, and with a rather plain appearance. For some reason, I couldn't help but want to deliberately expose myself so she could see it (men always want to share what they like with a woman). So I shifted my butt back so my crotch would show under the desk, and unbuttoned one button. Apparently, due to carelessness, the garage door was wide open, and my underwear was pulled to one side, revealing a third of my "stick." I just waited for it to happen. My eyes were on the blackboard, but my nerves were sensing her reaction. Finally, I felt she saw it, but she didn't say anything; she must have been shy. She must have pretended to be calm and peeked many times, but never exposed me. I felt smug at the time. (Being smug after someone saw your private parts; God must have been drinking when programming men.)

It happened a few more times later. In fifth grade, we changed seats, and I sat next to another girl. She came from the wealthiest family in the class; her parents frequently traveled abroad, and her home was filled with many "bourgeois" trinkets. She also dressed relatively fashionably and was widely considered the classmate with the most "bourgeois ideology." The prevailing educational system at the time made her classmates unwilling to associate with her. However, after sitting with her for a while, we actually became best friends. Finally, one day, I couldn't resist wanting her to share my "goodies."

Just like before, I pulled the same trick. To my surprise, she was furious when she saw them and whispered to me, "Quickly button up your pants!" Her tone was angry, reproachful, and even aggrieved. I was shocked and deeply ashamed. The blow of being rejected was like a basin suddenly falling to the ground while you were meditating—it could startle you into a state of mental instability.

From then on, I never played such games again. Her rebuke pulled me back from the path of exhibitionism.

Now, many people play with videos, and some even "communicate" with their genitals, but they don't have to worry about being seen as perverts by acquaintances. This is a benefit of social progress. It allows the release of human weaknesses that were once condemned to life imprisonment.

In the second year of junior high school, I was relatively short (I'm 182cm now, but I was only 140cm back then). It seems that people in my family are late bloomers. Because of my short stature, I didn't have a high status in class, unlike in elementary school when I could easily become the class monitor. (It seems that discrimination based on height is a kind of human inferiority complex from a young age.) At that stage, girls grew quickly, and short boys were somewhat inferior.

Although my height grew slowly, my sexual organs developed quickly. This asynchronous phenomenon still puzzles me to this day. It was precisely because of this that I had to try things that most people longed for but couldn't do.

Back then, I was incredibly flexible. I had attended martial arts training classes, and the basics were nothing more than kicking, splits, and backbends. One training exercise involved standing and bending over, bringing your head close to your knees and holding your legs with your hands, to see who could hold the position the longest. I was competitive from a young age, so I trained extremely hard, and later I could easily stretch my hamstrings.

In those days, our family's conditions weren't as good as they are now. I had to use a huge iron basin to bathe at home, filling it with hot water and sitting in it to soak and wash. Only half of my body could fit in the basin; the rest of my body hung on the edge. One time, while washing my lower body, I was surprised to find that my little brother had grown quite a bit. It had secretly stolen my nutrients, maturing before I did. Because I was short at the time, my torso was relatively short, and combined with my developed flexibility and the "height" of my little brother, I could bend over and get my mouth very close to it. At the time, I had a strange urge to try and reach it. After several attempts, I finally succeeded. At first, I could only touch it by sticking out my tongue, but later I could even put its head in my mouth. There was a special kind of pleasure when I held it in my mouth. (It may be unbelievable, but this is my true experience.)

I was really a complete hooligan back then. Even at that time, I didn't understand the nuances of relationships between men and women. My family was too strict, and societal views were extremely restrictive. At that time, my fantasy about marriage was to find a "female hooligan" who was willing to shower with me.

In the second semester of my second year of junior high school, I experienced ejaculation for the first time. Actually, I had never had a wet dream before that. The first time I saw semen was by making it with my hands.

Our class monitor was a tall boy with excellent grades, especially in English (now he is a consul abroad). He was the one who "ruined" me.

One day, the class monitor and two other boys came to my house to play. In the midst of their playful banter, a few of us tied up the class monitor, and at a classmate's suggestion, we quickly stripped him naked. This pull was all it took; the guys were dumbfounded. "Holy crap! How come your penis is so long? It looks like a donkey's!" one classmate exclaimed. Another chimed in, "Pull it longer!" and reached out to pull. The class monitor quickly begged for mercy, "No, no, no, if you pull it I'll ejaculate! Really!"

I said, "What do you mean, 'ejaculate'?"

Almost all the guys looked at me strangely. "How can you be so stupid? You don't even know this?" they teased. "We'll have the class monitor teach you how to feel good later!"

We untied the class monitor, and this guy actually used his own penis to demonstrate and explain to me, just like when he tutored us. Although I remained calm, a strange sense of disgust for the class monitor welled up inside me. So he was a pervert too! Although I was one too.

Following the method the class monitor taught me, I started practicing in the bathroom at home that night. The first time I was about to ejaculate, it felt really strange; I almost couldn't stand up and nearly knelt on the ground. And so began my masturbation career.

Back then, there were no video cameras, and we couldn't watch porn. We read handwritten books. The first one I read was called "Manna's Memoirs," which I borrowed from a childhood friend. The descriptions were actually quite direct and childish, nothing compared to today's erotic literature. Relying on that booklet, I masturbated almost every day. Sexual urges were incredibly easy to trigger back then. I remember my uncle bringing me a small calculator when he came back from Japan. The box had a poster of a woman in a bikini riding a mountain bike, one hand on the handlebars, the other holding a Casio calculator. That woman in the picture gave me countless pleasurable releases. Now, that young girl must be an old woman by now. I really want to find her, thank her in person, but without telling her why.

I remember for a while, society was educating people against masturbation, using alarmist rhetoric. They said it affected studies, caused mental confusion, hindered development, corrupted thinking, and led to moral decay—they practically called it indecent behavior. So back then, masturbation brought both pleasure and a deep sense of guilt. I suffered mental torment but couldn't break the habit.

I still remember a dialogue from a Japanese novel where a teacher caught a student masturbating. The student was ashamed, so the teacher pulled down his pants and said, "Actually, I masturbate often too, and you see, it's fine." The student, after seeing this, said, "I didn't expect your thing to be so impressive. Is it the result of regular exercise?"

My upbringing and the social environment of that time instilled in me a deeply ingrained perception of "evil" sex.

In my second year of high school, I got a girlfriend, but we never held hands for a long time. I remember one snowy night, we were walking outside, and she suddenly turned around and pulled my hands to her from behind. I immediately kissed her ear. Having never touched a girl before, I was stunned by my own actions. I quickly pushed her away and apologized apologically. She laughed and said I was silly. Later, our relationship gradually progressed to mutual touching. Each time, she was unusually wet, and we often had to dry off before continuing. At that time, the most we did was touch each other. Since she was the first girl I ever touched, I was grateful for her tolerance. I thought to myself, perhaps no other woman in the world could do that. Only she didn't treat me like a pervert. It was rare, and I was determined to marry her someday. In

my senior year of high school, a particularly lively girl in my class had just moved. On New Year's Eve, she invited a few of us close friends to her new house. While everyone else was outside setting off firecrackers, only she and I were left at home. She put on a tape on the tape recorder, saying it was something new for me, called "Bed Disco," which was basically disco music, sometimes mixed with women's moans. I was leaning against the bed when she sat down next to me and took my hand to look at it. "I love your hands the most, they're so soft..." she said, fiddling with my fingers. Soon, she placed my hand on her chest. I was startled and didn't dare move. She rubbed my hand while pulling it onto her body. I was completely dumbfounded, my mind buzzing. This time, it was the girl who had initiated the touching. It was unbelievable! How could a girl do such a thing? From then on, she was as repulsive to me as the female spy in "Red Crag" who seduced Xu Yunfeng. Later, after experiencing more of life, I looked back on this incident and found my thoughts at the time ridiculous. I truly regretted not taking advantage of the situation and sleeping with her! Why put myself through so much suffering?

When I was in the army, we were stationed in the mountains. After basic training, I was assigned to a communications station. Our station was the only one with female soldiers within a hundred miles of the base. Their job was to work in the switchboard room, essentially handling telephone operations. Back then, calls were transferred using a single plug-in line. To connect to someone's number, you plugged the entire line into the corresponding jack on the equipment panel. Sometimes, when officers encountered a busy line, they would ask the female soldier on the other end:

"Who's plugged in there?"

"Sorry, it's so-and-so."

"That's outrageous! They've been plugged in for so long!"

"No, they just plugged it in too."

"I'm in a hurry! Unplug his and plug mine in!"

"..."

Life was tense and monotonous back then. People said that after three years in the army, even sows would have double eyelids. We were all strong, young men, and in that environment and at that age, things were most likely to go wrong. So the army was very strict with female soldiers, almost to the point of being inhumane. I almost crossed that line once. I was on night duty, and a female soldier I was very close to was also on duty. After the night shift, she sneaked into my computer room to chat. We got along very well, and that day, in a moment of excitement, we embraced. Like dry tinder meeting a raging fire, the effect was predictable.

We kissed passionately on a desk, and suddenly she got up and unbuckled my belt; my military trousers, being very baggy, slipped down easily. She lay on the desk, unbuckled her own belt, and grabbed my penis. I was so excited I was almost going crazy, so I pressed myself against her. Just as I was about to penetrate her, I saw her beautiful, flushed face. I stopped, took a deep breath, and berated myself for doing something so wrong to her (my feudalistic thinking was quite stubborn). I forced myself to stay calm, rolled over, and helped her and me get dressed. To compose myself, I lit a cigarette. She stared at me silently. Five minutes passed, but I couldn't suppress my impulse any longer. I suddenly stood up, walked to the window, turned my back, and burned my wrist hard with the cigarette butt. She screamed, rushed over, and hugged me, crying, "How could you be so foolish? You're so foolish! I don't blame you. I like being with you like this. I know you're torturing yourself for me, but you know how painful it is for me to do this..." I told her, "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to control myself, so I used pain to distract myself."

That night, she helped me with her hand; her hand was incredibly gentle...

The next day, when she saw me, she smiled sweetly and said, "You're a good man. I've heard that once a man has done something, he can't hold back. It seems you've never done it before. I like you."

Just like that, I went from a rogue to a good man, from a guy with lewd thoughts to a legendary figure who could remain unmoved by temptation.

A few days ago, I went to the Civil Affairs Bureau to process my divorce. I saw many people my age queuing up, the oldest couple looking to be around 60. The room for divorce was small and located at the back, with only one older woman attending to everyone. The marriage registration area, on the other hand, was a large hall, very modern, like a bank branch, and decorated festively. When I went to the photocopying room to print documents, I was also served by an older woman. She immediately asked, "Are you getting married or divorced?" I said, "Hehe, I got married here before." She said, "Oh, then it's a divorce. You need to print three copies of the divorce agreement and two copies of the other documents, five yuan in total." Her tone was relaxed and natural, her movements practiced and efficient. Her nonchalant attitude reminded me of a friend who is the chief physician in the obstetrics and gynecology department of a hospital. He's seen countless people; I guess he sees women taking off their pants as unremarkable as seeing them cracking sunflower seeds.

A brief chat with this woman revealed that more people get divorced than married every day.

I've been thinking about why there's been such a divorce surge in recent years, what's harming so many of us?

I served in the army in a minority area. There was once a soldier who was discharged because of an affair with a widow from a minority group. This guy, who was in charge of buying groceries in the mess hall, somehow got involved with this woman. He paid her five yuan each time they slept together. Back then, a soldier's monthly allowance was only 15 yuan, so eventually he couldn't afford it anymore. Apparently, he owed her several tens of yuan, and she reported him to the army. This caused this lucky yet pitiful coward to carry a bad reputation for the rest of his life.

Being a man inherently comes at a price: either you pay with hard work, sweat, and money, or you bear a bad name and suffer punishment. It's all to make that restless corpus cavernosum go soft. Ironically, when one day you really can't get an erection, you panic and desperately try to regain your virility. Those who get erections easily are called "stinky men who think with their lower bodies," while those who can't get an erection are said to be "not men at all." It's truly a cruel twist of fate.

I had my first real penetration when I was 24. Before that, I thought people who had premarital sex were really bold. In an era of ideological repression, a woman's lower body was morally one-way; if you dared to go in, you had to be prepared to "never return," otherwise, no matter what your surname was when you went in, you would come out with the surname "Chen," like the unfortunate man in "The Case of Chen Shimei."

A man's lower body is a magic wand, enabling him to conquer the world. But it also disturbs your senses while you are conquering.

When I was in the army preparing for the military academy entrance exam, the best soldiers in the entire base were selected and concentrated in the training team. As a result, I was admitted to a prestigious academy with the second-highest score in the entire regiment. When the results were posted, no one believed it, saying that I must have used my background from a high-ranking family. The reason was that no one had ever seen me studying. In fact, I always studied in secret, hiding from everyone. During the day, I would hide in the bushes on the mountain, and at night, I would sneak into abandoned old barracks with a flashlight. The only reason I chose such places was to facilitate masturbation. At that age, my physical needs were incredibly strong. To stay focused while studying, I had to ejaculate almost every few hours. Afterward, I could concentrate exceptionally well.

Others might have used this method, but none were as discreet as I was. The Shandong soldier in the bunk below me usually stayed up until the wee hours, only acting under the covers after everyone else had fallen asleep. I could often feel the bed shaking, followed by the sound of tearing paper. I secretly laughed at his inefficient method, since he only slept half the night and was sleepy the next day. In the end, he didn't pass the exam. Looking back now, I really should have shared my method with everyone, so that those taking the military academy entrance exam that year could all achieve good results and strive for first place in the entire army.

I remember one year a movie called "Widow Village" was released, which I heard was unsuitable for children. So, I invited a few soldiers to desert and go to the county town. The county town's movie theater was terrible, like a makeshift shed, and you could smoke freely inside. We watched it in a hazy, smoky environment. The result was very disappointing; the most explicit scene was just a kiss followed by blowing out the light. The rest of the story is left to your imagination while masturbating after reading.

The most intense sexual fantasy I had while living in a communal dormitory was living in the female soldiers' barracks and watching them walk around in their underwear, carrying basins to wash up. Meanwhile, I would lie in bed masturbating, and everyone would be at peace.

The truly unforgettable and exciting event was after I was admitted to military academy. One summer vacation, I invited my girlfriend (also a comrade from my time in the army, who was admitted to another military academy in the same city) and two buddies to go on a picnic in the countryside. That night, we stayed at a local family's house. It was a suite; we put her in the inner room, and the three of us slept on the large kang (heated brick bed) outside. In the middle of the night, I saw the light was still on in the inner room, so I sneaked in to see her. She was sitting on the bed wearing a very soft dress, revealing her long, white legs. These legs were the direct cause of our relationship. We were studying for the military academy entrance exam in a training unit, and the unit wanted to enrich its cultural life with an arts performance. I played the guitar well, so she asked me to teach her, saying she had signed up for a singing and playing performance. I found two guitars and went to her dorm. She sat on the edge of her bed and gave me a military-style stool. Women's summer uniforms include skirts, and as soon as I sat down, I had a full view of her long, shapely legs. I've forgotten how I was taught back then, but I remember constantly taking the opportunity to steal glances into her alluring depths. I think she must have noticed; her face was constantly red. A few times, she seemed to unintentionally open and close her legs a few times, allowing me a fleeting glimpse of her pink panties.

In a suburban house, I saw those legs again that had once filled me with endless fantasies. We didn't say anything, just slowly kissed. After a while, she gently bent her legs, and I was shocked to see that she wasn't wearing any panties! Her face was flushed with embarrassment, but there was a resolute determination in her defiance. I went wild, kissing from her calves all the way to her clitoris, tasting the flavor of a woman's genitals for the first time—a little bitter (strangely, none of the flavors I tasted afterward were bitter), with a slightly salty aftertaste. Kissing there had a warm feeling. I wanted to bury my head between her beautiful legs and fall asleep kissing her petals.

She trembled violently from my kisses, like a frostbitten child. To stifle her moans, she gritted her teeth, her hands digging into my shoulders until they bled. My erection was throbbing, and I struggled to resist penetration. Sensing my pain, she trembled as she bent down and pulled down my pants, taking my throbbing member into her mouth without hesitation. The resulting excitement was unimaginable; I ejaculated like a geyser. She sucked greedily, like a starving infant, swallowing all my fluids.

Years later, she became the first woman I gave my virginity to; before that, we had always done so. We had been dating for four years by the time I graduated from military academy, and when I decided to marry her, we made love for the first

time. But in the end, we painfully broke up. This beautiful memory made me imagine kissing the clitoris whenever I met a sexy girl. I felt that intercourse was just to satisfy my urges, while kissing the clitoris was a spiritual need for me.

If "marriage is the tomb of love," then the sexual contract is the soil on that tomb. Love doesn't need a contract; you can love only one person for a lifetime, even secretly admire them, without needing any stamped seal to prove it. Therefore, the essence of marriage is actually a pair of handcuffs, binding two people's sexual organs together. Traditional education and social morality are the chains on those handcuffs. If you can't resist and eat the forbidden fruit, you must redeem your freedom with a lifetime of infamy.

In unions based on sex, love becomes a transaction; in unions based on love, sex becomes a responsibility.

At the end of my final semester at military academy, I finally slept with my girlfriend of four years. For four years, I hadn't had any close relationships with other women, despite having many suitors during my time at the academy.

The reason I slept with her was because after four years, I needed to give her closure, to show my willingness to take responsibility and marry her in the future. But did I truly love her? My lingering resentment proved I didn't love her enough, yet what I couldn't give up was that she could provide sexual release when I needed it. So I often missed her, and this longing was mixed with sexual desire.

I also believed she truly loved me, and that she catered to my sexual desires to gain my love. Traditional women view sex as a tragic sacrifice or a selfless dedication. Therefore, a phrase that terrifies men is often uttered: "I've given you everything." If such a sacrifice still doesn't earn love, the man who "got off" becomes a vicious liar. It's possible that some people are liars from the start, but all deceptions only work on the greedy. Love is an emotion that originates from the heart, brewed from many factors (including sexual pleasure). Like Lao Tzu's alchemy, the ingredients must be carefully selected and refined over forty-nine days. If a woman eagerly hopes to obtain the "elixir" in a "simple" way, she often ends up with the "gunpowder" that ignites her life (gunpowder was invented through alchemy). Only when a woman can see sex as a personal need can she avoid being hurt. I admire some women who, when warned to be careful not to be taken advantage of, can say: "See? We don't even know who's taking advantage of whom yet." The

direct reason for my breakup with my girlfriend of four years was caused by her parents. Right after graduating from military academy, they pressured me to get married. According to their hometown custom, if the eldest child doesn't marry, the second child can't have children (absurd). She was the eldest, while the second child was already married. Because I firmly disagreed with getting married at such a young age, I angered her mother: "You've been dating for so many years, why aren't you married? You need to explain yourself right here!" I couldn't explain. Over the years, out of a sense of "responsibility," I had been trying to cultivate my feelings for her, but they hadn't yet developed into the love I understood. I felt I needed time to transform gratitude into affection. True love is true responsibility; otherwise, it's still a deception, deceiving her and deceiving myself.

At her mother's urging, we hastily broke up. The breakup was truly painful. The final chapter of the breakup ceremony was a heartfelt act of love. Since this might be the last time, we both gave it our all. We let go of the taboos caused by our past "closeness," not caring how the other viewed our actions, and getting everything we wanted in this one moment. After the frenzy, looking at her satisfied yet lost face, I felt a pang of sadness. This time it was love, because the taste of love is sour. But it was all too late.

The pain of the breakup made me avoid dating women I liked for a long time. I thought I would never fall in love again. I was afraid of the emotional burden, so I resumed masturbation; only masturbation gave me a sense of ease and pleasure.

It's often said that men experience sex before love, but that conclusion is too hasty and reflects a lack of understanding of men.

Eight months after breaking up with my ex-girlfriend, I met her (who later became my wife). She struck me as fresh and pure, the kind of woman many would call a "peerless beauty." She was selected by our company after graduation because of her outstanding qualities in all aspects. Her excellence, coupled with her captivating appearance, caused a near-frenzied pursuit by single men upon her arrival. They used every trick in the book: relentless pursuit, poems written in blood, kneeling and begging, and material gifts. (Writing this, I suddenly recalled a line from Mao Zedong mocking the Kuomintang's encirclement and suppression: "I'm a piece of rotten meat; wherever I go, flies buzz towards me. Let them buzz!")

Sure enough, she got annoyed by the buzzing and declared publicly that she would never date again, asking everyone to abandon any illusions.

But I was an exception. I hadn't fully recovered from the pain of the breakup and was utterly disgusted by those men's behavior. She was a girl who had been pursued by boys since childhood, and she never expected to meet someone as arrogant as me, who never tried to please her. In fact, when she threw a tantrum, I was the only one who didn't indulge her bad habits. She later told her female colleagues in private that I was the most manly person in the company. And so, with the help of many enthusiastic colleagues (who were married), we got together.

The turning point from liking her to falling in love with her was when she first came to my house. We sat together watching TV, and naturally, we shared our first kiss. Her lips were delicate and soft, her expression obedient and docile, completely devoid of her usual pride, curling up in my arms like a kitten. It aroused a primal male instinct in me, a desire to protect and cherish her. At that moment, all my wicked thoughts vanished.

For a long time, because of my love for her, I became "pure," not only refraining from thinking about vulgar things, but even finding dirty jokes disgusting.

It was only natural that our relationship progressed to sexual intercourse. This time, I felt no pressure or guilt, focusing instead on her feelings and giving her genuine pleasure, thus achieving spiritual satisfaction for myself.

For men, sex with love is incomparable; it's a sublimated form of sex based on emotion, a seasoning of love.

When she proposed, I agreed without hesitation, almost impatiently. If marriage were the end of life, I would gladly die happily after my wedding night, having found my love, without regret. But in reality, it is love that buries love, and the earth that buries love is the irresistible allure of sex.

Humanity will eventually conquer the entire earth; that's how fate has ordained it. To achieve this, fate endowed humanity with intelligent minds and abundant reproductive power. Women lay eggs only once a month, while men produce billions of sperm daily. Each sperm's goal is to have a one in a billion chance of reaching the uterus, charging towards the egg, and thus continuing its life. These innocent sperm throbbed frantically inside the man's body, pitifully begging their master to give them a chance before their short lives ended, even if it was just to catch a glimpse of their dream of heaven. They stirred up hormones, stimulating their master's anxious nerves.

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