The following has become crystal clear to me.
I obsessively obsess when one of the human male species that I find attractive shows me even the slightest bit of affection. It quickly becomes me trying to make forever out of nothing. Regardless if I know what the outcome will be or not.
There were so many boys that I had crushes on in my youth. I actively pursued them, forcing my like on them. Going as far to make them kiss me, I was such a precocious child. It rarely worked. I am and always have been a wee bit overly aggressive. I intimidate and repel the opposite sex with my personality. Occasionally, a man has been attracted to my sassy attitude. But only one man ever managed to tough it out. My ex-husband. I was 18 and he was 23 when we met. It was a monogamous relationship for 11 years on my part. It was not a healthy relationship, especially at the end. I’ll write about the demise some other time.
It didn’t matter how attracted to my ex I was when we met, I could not for the entire 11 years we were together ever let down my walls and be completely open about showing my body to him or what I wanted sexually from him. When I would get up the courage there was always a complaint. I eventually let him have control over every aspect our sex life. I’ve never admitted that to myself until today while I typed this. Wow…
It was a very immature relationship on my part because I’d never had another lover before him. Now, I wasn’t a virgin by any stretch of the imagination but I’d never had sex more than once with any guy in my few short years of experience. There was never anything particularly good about the boys I attempted to have sex with. Mostly just fumbling around and premature ejaculation. Typical teenage experiences for the time.
The first time I had sex with my now ex, I was hooked. I had finally had a “real man” throw down the good stuff. We spent the first 6 months together going at it like rabbits. We had tried many things I considered kinky, and some were, but I’ve learned it was pretty vanilla since then. I naively thought of myself as mature and open-minded about sex. It was probably always in the back of my mind that I should be aware there were problems with how I dealt with sex, in being a sexual being, and displaying my sexuality. I don’t think at any time I believed I had “intimacy” issues. I don’t think I understood the definition properly to label it as such.
It took me roughly 18 months after my divorce to venture into the realm of actually having sex again. It wasn’t about the fact that it wouldn’t be my ex that I would be having sex with, but more that I didn’t know how I would respond. So I went out on a real date that included dinner & a movie and what would turn out to be the most amazing, eye-opening sexual experience of my life up to that point. It also turned out that I couldn’t handle anything other than the sex. I couldn’t cope with someone wanting to be more than a sex partner. I walked away or I should say faded away, which is another topic sometime to address. I decided then and there that dating was out. I learned quickly what fuck buddies were for and where to find them.
Little did I know how entangled my mind could confuse lust and chemistry. I fucked around with just about any man who gave me an opening. No matter their situations, it didn’t matter to me. I wanted sex without the strings or consequences. Whatever they did outside of our time together was their business. At least this is what I tried telling myself. But, I’d get hung up on them and would start trying to sabotage our time together so I could leave them. I can’t do meaningless sex. I was being reckless and damaging my own soul.
The decision to give up sex started. This moratorium lasted for about 2 years. I had finally lost some weight and was feeling good about myself as a woman and wanted to feel desired again. I didn’t consider that I might be making a giant mistake again. The thing I regret the most about the man I got involved with is that I knew I should have walked away after the first time we got together. I didn’t and I got in way over my head. I abandoned everyone around me, missed work and basically made myself available to his beck and call. And for what? To be sexually dominated and used by someone who didn’t deserve to have that control over me. I never felt threatened by him in that he would physically hurt me. Instead, I felt threatened by my feelings. I made drama where there wasn’t any call for it to hide my real emotions. It wasn’t right or fair to him. I wasn’t about to back down or admit my mistakes. I made up some bullshit excuse to end things and got the hell away.
This was about 5 years ago. After I got over the hurt feelings and despondency I felt, I made the decision to stop involving myself with men for any reason for at least a year. Another round of forced abstinence. Now it has gone on much longer than I ever imagined. Due in large part to an injury (umbilical hernia) I’ve had for the past 3 plus years. It’s certainly given me the time to figure out my problems. Until I can get my health back on track and see my flaws without the rose-colored glasses I won’t allow myself the satisfaction I crave.