DiseXtion
When I was in high school struggling to decide who I was my mother told me I’d find myself in college. And as I rounded my senior year and could taste my bachelors degree my big sister told me going off into the “real world” would help me find myself. I’ve found myself thinking about this a lot lately. I believe them, that these past five years are when I should have been discovering who I was, how I ticked… I think I’ve just discovered that I’m a good girl with REALLY bad habits.
I.E… Sex.
I know I know, the cursed, dreaded, semi-taboo three letter word. But it’s true. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought lately and I really think I might be addicted to sex, and not in that adolescent nymphomania sort of way. I’m talking deep into your core, emotional mutilation, personal self-destruction sort of way.
A few months ago I watched a movie called Love Sick about a woman who was a sexual addict. It was cheesy and stupid but still, it struck close to home. I watched this woman mistake sex for love, and lust for intimacy and felt myself cringing inside. I could feel the questions bubbling…
Do I have no self-respect? Do I have no sense of self-worth?
I don’t know when it started. Even though I was abused as a child like many are I don’t recall it causing me to feel sexualized as a small girl. But I remember when I got older, feeling men’s eyes on me made me feel powerful. Still, I didn’t lose my virginity till I was 17 years old. I wasn’t raped or forced. It was a sweet (and seemingly pathetic) moment in a pick-up truck on a country road.
But then came the next boyfriend, and the next and I pushed into physical relationships at record speed. I felt more comfortable letting these men have sex with me then I did having conversations with them. For me, sex was easy. I was good at it and could flaunt confidence. They always thought they were getting all of me when I used sex as a way to keep them at a distance. Fake intimacy. They could get into my body, but they could not get into my head.
And then came my freshman year of college where one night took my will power away from me. No longer was I using sex as a tool to keep men interested but at a distance but it became a fear. I thought the more I did it the easier it would be, as if I were taking control back. It never felt the same. I would find myself in the middle of sex having an overwhelming nausea come over me or a need to bite and scratch. It hurt, and the more it hurt the more I wanted to hurt. The men, they thought I was passionate. They thought they were doing a good job.
Still, I let myself get talked into bed and then dumped time and time again. It created an alternate sense of self, as if the only thing I was good at was sex. It was the only thing I had to offer. Do you see a pattern forming? I would be broken hearted and another guy would come along, I’d sleep with him to make myself feel better and wind up worse off then I was before. I did this for years. And where as my sexual partner magic number may not have crawled into the double digits or anything the damage was already done.
Until C.
It was the same with him when it started, but it changed. I didn’t want to be guarded quite so much. I let him further and further into me despite my fears. For awhile, I felt better. I felt like sex was healthy. I didn’t want to cry or wash myself right after. It was a beautiful thing, like your parents tell you when you are six and want to know where babies come from. I always felt like there was so much more to my relationship with C then just sex. It gave me the strength to tell others no. I look at it now in the wake of my heartbreak and think maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was only sex to C, maybe that was all I had to offer as a woman.
It just scares me. I wonder if I will continue to fall into this pattern. Will I jump into bed with someone quickly in an attempt to make myself feel better and worse all at the same time. Will I feel trapped and smothered, like a kitten under the blanket, and try to claw my way out. Will I cry though laughter that the man will think is induced from pleasure. Will I stare at the ceiling and moan without cause. Or maybe I will lie there, silent and with my eyes tightly closed waiting for the pain to disintegrate and turn into something magic and poetic and beautiful like in the movies.
And maybe, when he places his lips to my ear and my throat I will realize that it’s just not worth it anymore and walk away.
Who knows?
My darling baby, I fear this is one topic that I cannot even begin to give you advise on. All I can say is that it is a step in a good direction that you are seeing these things and recognizing them. Don’t sell yourself short, and remember that you are capable of deciding who and what you want to be.
I have such an admiration for you. You have such honesty in these posts. I wish I was brave like that.
This is really a mature post. It shows vulnerability and growth. I do feel that it will change for you but this is the first steps in that change so it will be rough. I know that for me i feel that sex is the only way i know to show my emotions to a female. the more passionate i am for her the more frequent and intricate the sex would be but i would still keep an distance between us because of lack of ways to express myself and the common fear of commitment.
If you’re not doing it for you, don’t do it. If you don’t feel good about it, don’t do it. If it doesn’t interfere with your life, or the lives of others, it’s not a problem. Pick your partner like a serious business partner, like your livelihood depends on it. Do interviews and check references before hiring. Make informed decisions. The rest is up in the air.
@spidey: theoretically it should be that simple but when it’s a need to rip apart your insides like a cutter it’s not that simple. But thanks, I’m working on it