Destructive behavior at its best

Daniel and I would often kid around about how our relationship was on the wild side due to our both being sex addicts. We'd laugh about it and even throw around the term in a manner meant to mock one and other. The very beginning of our relationship was met with a super concentrated physical union. We were easily having sex three times a day at minimum and, for us, this seemed completely normal. Our nights out were always ended with intense kink. For the first month and a half or so we kept the sex to ourselves but eventually we stepped outside of the normal male/female relationship parameters and introduced exaggerated variations of our kink.

In a previous post of this blog, I mention that I was introduced to the group scene via a dude I met on Craigslist. Scouring the Internet was not that uncomfortable for me. I have, indeed, engaged in anonymous sex. This behavior, looking back, was super dangerous but while you're doing these things you don't stop and look around at the warning signs because for the most part, these actions are dictated by something much greater than the sheer desire to cum.

In the Six Feet Under snippet linked to this post, Brenda goes to see a therapist at the push of her friend Melissa who happens to be a sex worker. I chose to include this clip for a few reasons. At one point, Brenda mentions that she thinks she truly enjoys the euphoric feeling she gets from these random sexual encounters with strangers while she is in a monogamous relationship. Save Daniel, I have cheated on pretty much every boyfriend I've had. There was a point in my life that I was allowing my sexuality to dictate the bulk of my decisions. The idea of being in a relationship that was not centered on sex seemed nearly impossible. I was condoning my behavior by stating, simply, that my activities were a result of my desires. It's a rather simple equation; you want something, you get it. Deep down inside, I think I would often wonder whether or not my behavior was out of the norm and time and time again I would condone it by rationalizing the fact that I was simply acting on my raw needs. And, to a degree, this was true. I did have these desires and curiosities and my acting on them made me feel as if I was a step ahead of everyone that was allowing their repression to filter their desires. I was on top of the world in my mind.

Sometime over the last five years or so, I began to question these decisions. I wouldn't say that I was particularly ashamed of myself for having experimented but I am confident in exclaiming that the events took on an unsatisfying air after a while. They just became a bit substandard at their core and I tried, for a long time, to figure out what had changed and why my interest in these self-gratifying events began to dissipate. I still don't really have a firm answer on that.

When Daniel and I went to a group event, I found myself taking a moral inventory of the attendees. I was creating scenarios in my mind of all of their lives and the paths that brought these folks to the same room in which I was sitting. How fucking condescending of me. Of course, none of this was said aloud, but I certainly do remember having choice thoughts about two women in particular. One was the very youngish girl that had come along with a much older man. Her skin was as alabaster as a fucking porcelain doll and her hair as healthy as could be. I would guesstimate her at around 20, tops. I wondered what type of fucked up shit had happened in her childhood to bring her to this event on the arm of a 40+ bi-sexual male with whom she didn't seem to have very much in common. The other area I focused the remainder of my attention on was this socially awkward mid to late 30’s female. It was very evident via the weird small talk we had that she was a very self-doubting woman. She was on the heavier side, probably around a size 14-16, and while I didn’t find her particularly sexy or attractive, she was not an eye sore either. I studied her awkwardly work the room while she was fully clothed and later sat back to watch while she turned into this sex-beast who suddenly exhibited the confidence of Aphrodite. It was a transformation like none I'd ever seen before and all that continued to run through my mind was the sadness I felt for this woman who could only feel strong and beautiful when she was a sexual object. Now, far be it from me to cement any of these observations as real. My opinions are nothing but opinion - and a part of me plays with guilt for even having these types of thoughts but our minds are interesting creatures and they will go where they may. After the get together and my little thought session I turned the tables onto myself and played with the ideas of why I had found myself in this scene at one time. I still participate in these thoughts and I endlessly come up with the same answer: I use sex as a coping mechanism.

When the therapist in the clip above introduces the basic fundamentals of sex addiction she says some choice words. "It involves the sublimation of emotions that are too painful to address". My onset into the world of extreme casual sex came less than a year after the death of a man I was dating for five years intermittently and was sure would eventually be my husband. My entrance into the world of sexual activity at all, came at the ripe early age of 13 and I was unquestionably looking to escape the reality that was my home life. My parents are recovering drug addicts. The word recovering in the previous sentence might as well have a toggle switch because their lengths of clean time vary even to this day.

I have no hesitation declaring that the bulk of my sexual experience was gained via the attempt to not sit down in my own skin and deal with my life. This makes the most sense to me now because as I go through the motions of this break up with Daniel, I have never struggled more with feelings and I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that it is because instead of having a dick in my hand, I am actually allowing myself to go through this. I don't know if I would go so far as to say that I need to attend sex anonymous meetings - but I am positive in exclaiming that avoiding unhealthy sexual encounters is becoming a real struggle for me. I am starting to set myself up to jump back into this behavior pattern and I need to keep a watchful eye on it because this is NOT what I want to revert to. If for no other reason than to have a one-up on Daniel, I cannot go out like that. But, seriously, this has absolutely nothing to do with Daniel. This is about my healing process and I'm proud of myself for actually feeling the pain.

Three days after breaking up with me, I spotted Daniel on a strictly-sex site looking to hook up. He'd been staying at a friend’s place over in Washington Heights and I noticed that his 'location' on the site had been changed to reflect his current whereabouts. I was hurt, obviously, but more so I was actually a bit stunned that he would so quickly revert to this behavior. We'd discussed our sexual exploits and repeatedly he'd mentioned that he did not want to go back to being "that guy". Here I was in our apartment, drowning in a bed of tears, looking at the online profile of "that guy". It was heart breaking on a number of levels. Even now, nearly two months have gone by and I can't help but check his online status on that site every now and again. He's still active, still seeking hookups. I went and looked further today - and found that he now has a match.com account, too. I was joking with a friend of mine after having read Daniel's Match.com profile and said "He's going to make me go out and suck a dick, and I don't want to do that!". The real joke is that I don't know how untrue that statement is.

I have not had sex with anyone since Daniel which may honestly be the longest period I've been without intercourse in over 10 years. It's a conflicting feeling because a part of me is missing the intimacy that comes along with intercourse. I want to have someone’s hands running down my post-coital flesh. The issue with this is that anyone that I would fuck right now doesn't do the snuggle thing. It'd be strictly sex and I am just not 'there'. Reading Daniel's Match.com ad had me nearly in tears. It's my own fault for looking, obviously - but the Internet will test your limits if nothing else. I am just 'not ready' for the next steps and I suppose that means I'll need to hold off on getting my rocks off accordingly. This is difficult.

Rebounds can be a good thing. Rebounds deflect and I need deflection. I want to nerve up the energy and resources to build my own damn Match.com account - or at least to go out to a bar, or actually attend one of those meetup.com meetups. Why the fuck did I even join if I'm never going to attend an event? Pointless! I suppose my process is one that will work at its own pace. And, I need to make certain that I don't lose sight of the fact that I am not the one with active sex accounts looking to hook up. Typing that sentence prompted me to check his online status - what do you know? Online! I have to stop that, seriously.