I read or heard or figured out on my own that the most effective way to not exhibit unwanted emotional displays is to repeat ad nauseum the very thing you don't want to do. Say you're with a group of new friends and a topic comes about which you know very little. You want to socially participate and, so, you make some ill-informed comment. All eyes turn to you to weigh in as you begin to flounder. You can't even remember your initial point. All you feel is the heat expressed on your cheeks. Thinking "don't blush, don't blush, don't blush" only makes matters worse. However, I've found if you tell yourself to blush, you won't. Or say someone you really like tells you something you really don't want to hear. Your eyes begin to well, but you'll be damned if you let this person see the effect of their words. You tell yourself not to cry, but it's useless. The tears start flowing. This stategy was revealed to me as a young actor. There was some gripping scene where I had to cry and I remember, instead of using my actor bag o' tricks of sense memory and whatnot, wanting to speed up the process and, thus, simply started thinking "cry, cry, cry" to no avail. My eyes were dry and my performance stagnant. I couldn't force a demonstrative response. Thus, considering the inverse result of those two instances, I've deduced it's more beneficial to trick your mind into doing the opposite of what you actually want to do. I don't know why this works, but it most certainly does. Perhaps it's because it's a little more exciting to fight against something than go with the grain. Whatever the case, it's gotten me out of (and into) many a jam. It's my own personal defense mechanism.
This makes me think about sex. Whether it stems from the selflessness of having a hand (or a tongue?) in someone else's pleasure or as a way to, umm, lubricate the situation, men seem slightly obsessed with the female orgasm. The order of events is often the same. You get naked, start kissing, start touching, maybe a few nipple licks and fingertips and then, before you know, they're between your legs, working with an anatomy more complex than any sex guide could ever describe. Most men think they know exactly what they're doing. They've got the flicking and sucking and slurping down to a science. It's almost methodical. Now it's countdown time. They start looking up at you with "you close?" eyes, timing things out based on pointed toes and arched back and tightened thighs. It's as if they want to prove to themselves that they're really good, rather than focusing on being, well, really good.
Instead of enjoying the moment and the attention and the sensation, your brain starts focusing on coming: are you taking too long, are they savoring the experience, are you "properly" displaying pleasure. And so on. Even though you know you can come and -- more than likely -- this particular person can make you come, the end result becomes more important than the process. You think about climaxing and performing satisfaction as opposed to letting the blood rush where it will. And then, just like that, all you hear in your head is Rossini's William Tell Overture. And then, just like that, sensation is replaced by concentration, which is, of course, a slippery slope leading to nowhere slippery. Plus, nothing makes you not come more than trying to tell yourself to come. So stop trying and start feeling. Who the fuck cares how long it takes.
Men have so much pride and ego attachment surrounding the female orgasm -- so much so that if you don't come, you feel slightly inadequate. This is unfortunate. Sexual satisfaction shouldn't spawn from vicariously making someone else feel satisfied with their job well done. Just because a dude does something somewhere with some girl absolutely doesn't mean that the same thing will happen with another person. Men, you gotta listen to a body as opposed to checking off a past tense list of fruitful tactics. Women, you gotta tell lovers what feels good to you, no matter how momentarily vulnerable this candidness makes you.
The depiction of sex in film and tv only perpetuates this scenario. For the sake of time and titillation, there is rarely a build-up. Actresses tend to moan and respond at first touch, which, again, makes the flesh-and-blood experience even more artificially constructed. If we're not instantly advertising arousal, then we're either not enjoying ourselves or else we're incapable of enjoying ourselves. It becomes our fault. Not theirs. This is insane. And untrue. There is nothing more exciting than someone truly relishing in your body, especially when it's because they want to -- not because they feel like they have to in order to move on to the main course. So. My advice to all guys: chill out a bit and let things unfold as they will. Not being so goal-oriented heeds the best results. Always.