I would take each sex cure individually, then try my hand at some solo sexual activities to see how my sex drive, and heart rate, was affected.
To be honest, I didn’t have a planned destination as I left my air-conditioned apartment for the dense and noisy streets of Chinatown. I didn’t know what to buy or where to buy it. I didn’t even know how to identify what I was looking for: Herbal sex aides? Ancient Chinese penis pills? I just knew I had to traverse the Chinatown streets until I found what I needed.
I’ll admit I’m not a firm believer in eastern medicine. I’ve tried Tai Chi, had acupuncture, and drank countless cups of specialized tea for the plethora of health problems I suffered from as a child. While each method would fill me with hope, I found that my issues remained regardless of how many herbs and pills I ingested.
As far as virility goes, I would say my sex drive is that of a rabbit. Not a fully grown male rabbit, maybe something more along the lines of a newborn rabbit. So I have the sex drive of a baby rabbit. It’s normal. A solid six. I felt, because of my sexual neutrality, that the Chinese herbs and supplements I bought would have a noticeable effect on me. I wasn’t expecting to turn into the Jackie Chan of romance (in the sense that my sexing skills would match his martial arts skills), but I had high hopes.
Believer in eastern medicine or not, I still judge a book by its cover and these very scientific looking pills seemed like they could really do a number on my hot bod. I would take each sex cure individually, then try my hand at some solo sexual activities to see how my sex drive, and heart rate, was affected.
China Mong Num
"Little Black Pill"
To make sure I was getting the full effect, I doubled the suggested quantity of every supplement I bought. Strictly going against the advice from those on Google and Yahoo Answers, I spent a couple of days swallowing pills, brewing tea, and recording the results. Generally, I would take the herb, lock myself in the room, see if I felt like masturbating, and write down how I felt.
"Little Black Pill"
Okay, so if you frequent porn shops and bodegas as I often as I do, you’ll notice a large variety of Chinese pills next to the condoms/pregnancy test section. The package often has two strangely muscular people mid-coitus. One of the people looks shockingly like Chun-Li from Street Fighter. This pill, so I was told by the kind old man who sold it to me, was the strongest thing they had. I Googled this pill (which was hard, as the package was entirely in Chinese) and found a slew of reviews. Some said it was effective, some said it wasn't, and some said it caused strokes. Throwing caution to the wind, I opened up the package and washed down the pill with a glass of Diet Coke. The first twenty minutes were quiet. No erection, no elevated heart rate, nothing. It was soon after, at exactly minute twenty-one, that the horrifying effects of this little black pill began to take hold. What began was the sweat. A consistent cold sweat coupled with a flash of heat that went through my body as I sat motionless in front of my computer screen. I thought this increase in body heat was odd, as my air conditioning was on full blast. Over the next two hours, I felt a spike in my energy that could only be labeled as unsettling. Though, I was so detached from my body that my penis could have melted into a puddle on the ground and I wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow.
I was amped up and manic and my thoughts were running a thousand miles an hour. It became uncomfortable how simultaneously tired and energetic the pill made me. Soon I bordered on a full-blown panic attack, thinking the effects of this pill would never wear off. Would I ever feel normal again? I could fully understand why these types of pills cause heart attacks — it felt like my ticker was going to explode out my chest like the alien from–wait for it–Alien.
The little black pill did, in fact, do a number on my junk and I felt completely compelled to beat off until my palms were raw. The problem was that my brain was too hot-wired and riddled with Chinese-pills-induced ADD to properly concentrate on a much-needed orgasm. I must’ve watched porn for five hours, maniacally clicking through every scene and genre until I couldn’t take it anymore. I jumped in the shower, popped open a few beers, and cooled off my aching head. Once the beer hit my system, I stopped sweating, took control over my brain, and delivered a weak orgasm that, if given to a woman, would have produced a really shitty looking kid.
Romantic High comes in a green package and boasts the promise of heightened romantic and sexual feeling. I poured myself a mug of water, nuked it for a minute in the microwave, and added two packets of Romantic High. It wasn’t so much a tea as it was a smelly beige powder. The water turned a sickly green when I added the two packets and it smelled akin to the rung-out bra of a large-breasted woman or the bottom of a Chaise lounger after a holiday. It tasted shockingly dull, compared to the smell; almost indiscernible from green tea.
There were no immediate effects and I downed the mug within a ten-minute span. I sat down on my bed, opened a book, and waited for something to happen. The first thing I noticed was an elevated heart rate, accompanied by racing thoughts. It felt like I was being chased by a large dog or a medium-sized raccoon. I was antsy, nervous, and couldn’t sit still to save my life. I gave my dongle a couple of tugs to see if I noticed any change, but was met with the typical neutral fleshy phallic sigh I was all too familiar with when attempting boredom-fueled masturbation. As I waited for results, I began to focus on my breathing in an attempt to lower my heart rate and, because of that, grew relaxed, sleepy, and took a nap. An hour later I woke up, sans boner, and declared Romantic High a bust.
China Mong Num
China Mong Num comes in a beige package with a man flexing his muscles and, I assume, sporting a hidden erection. While purchasing this product, I spoke with an extremely testy, ancient woman who assured me, through broken English, that these pills would substantially increase my sex drive and promote kidney strength. I spent two days taking two pills each morning (again, twice the recommended dose) and waited for results. I was skeptical after my Romantic High ingestion and ensuing nap, but China Mong Num was surprisingly successful.
Perhaps it was the placebo effect of taking a pill where the packaging features a jacked Chinese fella, but honest to god, I felt a little stronger and substantially more badass. As far as dick-strength goes, arousal became a close friend. I felt as if I had more control over my little buddy and could increase (and oddly enough decrease) my downtown blood flow with the power of thought. Or maybe it was the power of love? It’s hard to say — I played a lot of Huey Lewis during the couple of days I was on China Mong Num and that man’s voice is like aural pornography. Again, I’m never one to doubt the power of suggestion and could very easily blame the placebo effect for my increase in strength and virility–regardless, I’ll be continuing on with China Mong Num until it’s banned by the FDA. Totally joking–I’m positive it was never approved by the FDA.
I was surprised and unphased all at once. I didn’t think these pills would turn me into a superman horndog Genghis Khan of love, but I certainly didn’t think that some of these remedies would mirror my perceived effects of fucking crystal meth. The Romantic High was a bust, though I’m curious if it’s one of those things that work over the course of a few weeks. The China Mong Num was surprisingly effective, but more in the sense that it made me feel happy and, I think, helped my memory. A small part of me believes it aided in me becoming a sensational whistler, but a bigger part of me thinks I was just born a good whistler. The little black pill made me want to die and I hope the people who made it are all in prison. I’m sure these over-the-counter and hopefully illegal drugs work for some people in the ways they’re intended — but for the future, I’m going to stick to good ol’ fashioned whiskey. Because like my great-grandfather said on his deathbed:
“If you're ever lookin' to get off, slam some gin down your talk-hole and party like your legs are on fire.” Of course, he died before I was born.