The thread lives! And so does Gllloppo! They delete lots of stuff on PoF so I'm pleasantly surprised.
Here's an interesting answer from one woman -
During stimulation of genitalia, Oxytocin (a brain peptide), is released in turn reducing stress-causing hormones in the body. Levels peak during orgasm. Increased levels of oxytocin can also make you "appear" younger. So the scientific answer to your question is, yes, life would be more simple and less stressful if humans were free of the urge to stimulate thier genitals, however, the act of stimulating genitals reduces stress and hence life becomes more simple.
There are some early studies and trials into using oxytocin nasal sprays to treat anxiety disorders, but unless there is a pathological inibility to naturally produce oxytocin through such means as sex, loving relationships, generating feelings of being loved and cared for then I hold with popular scientific opinion in that artificial means of inducing this peptide should be reserved for people with pathological and neurological disorders and that every attempt should be made to assist those who have the natural ability to produce this chemical to do so through councelling and talking therapies in the first instance.
So mabe we just need this oxytocin spray.
It has not bothered me too much in the winter. But now it is summer. It's alwasy worse in summer. I need the off switch in summer.
Bright eyes wrote:I remember seeing this documentry about this man who hadn't developed properly.
His body didn't produce, or only produced very small amounts of testoserone. He was a sucessful man, a doctor IIRC, with a nice house, degree etc.
Anyway, the show was about him starting on a series of testosterone shots.
It was amazing how he changed. His work suffered, and he became increasingly aware of women (where he had no interest beofre). He started going to the gym and working out so he could attarct womem and started going to night clubs etc.
Why did he bother with the testosterone? I guess he figured the grass was greener on the other side of the fence. It always seems like that. Until you get there and discover it's artificial turf.
Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast.