Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Wash Away?

I'm normally one who prefers cold. I get hot very easily and normally, quickly thereafter I become physically ill with dizziness and nausea. But last night I accepted the heat. I stood in the shower and let the scalding hot water pour over me as I heaped against the wall sobbing. Every few moments I would reach down and inch the hot a little further towards the door. Each time it ached a little more, but not enough. I just couldn't make it hot enough... even standing there for an hour, it didn't wash away.

I wanted it to wash this fucking virus away or... wash me away. I don't care which. I feel sick and numb with hatred of this disgusting thing I have inside of me. I am already broken because I have sexual addiction, but now I am a sex addict coping with HPV. You read the same line everywhere, 'tell him, and if he is a good guy, he will stay'. ... I wouldn't. If I knew fucking a man could lead me to have cancer... I would walk away! How can I blame anyone who would feel this way? And when it comes to a one-night stand, do you think he really cares who the hell I am? I don't. I just want to be free of these thoughts and feelings of worthlessness. It comes down to a simple mathmatical equation for me.

If I determine my self-worth by how much men want to fuck me, and I am no longer fuckable since I am the sexual equivalent of a leper. Then, I am led to believe I am nothing. And I will have to live with this for the rest of my life. Someone tell me how this can ever feel okay or how I am supposed to walk away from this situation without shame. No matter how many other women in the world have this, no matter how absurdly, grossly common this is, it will not change how disgusting I feel I am for it.

I experienced the first instance of this last night and it shattered me. I don't believe seeing my illusion of self-worth through someone else's sexual desires is the way I should be living, thus everything I am working on, for, and towards... but it does not change who I am in this moment. In this moment I need to be wanted to feel like I have a reason to be. Without that want... I am nothing... so why can't I just wash away? I can't make a conscious decision to end things, but if the water would do it for me... that would be ok.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Back Rubs...

Talking to a guy tonight he said something that rang with me. He said something that I have heard quite a few times. Something that I have proven wrong in every possible instance, thus far in my life. It's that line about giving me a back rub. You know the one where they tell you its just about making you feel good and helping you to relax. That this massage will not be about getting into your pants. How can two hot, ignited bodies pressed against eachother be about anything other than sex? It is the biggest load of bullshit you will ever hear! At least it is for me.

I retort as such, letting him know how much I believe this to be a line and a load of shit. He responds, as they always do, "I would never force myself on you". I don't disagree. I believe these men... some of them. In most senses, I know the difference, now. I believe I have been in that position enough to have some sense of who will force it and who will not. This man, is not one of them. He is kind, considerate, and compassionate. I tell him I know and he asks if it is myself I don't trust. But I know I don't like to make the first moves, ever, and with the exception of gym-boy... I don't. So, no... I trust myself to not start the sex. But I will never trust myself to stop it or prevent it. I just bat my eyes, smile, and flirt feverishly. I guess, this would be a seduction of sorts...

So, I tell them I don't want it, before we ever meet. And when we do I tease them until even they cannot contain themselves anymore. This is my test. I want someone to tell me I'm worth knowing first. On the inside... someone has to tell me. I don't even believe. When a guy wants to just be next to me, believes I am worth sitting beside, just to sit beside... without fucking, maybe then I'll believe. But no one really does. I make them fail. Isn't this partly because of my self-sabotage?

I need someone to push past my test. I need someone to like me enough... in mind, in spirit to not let me ruin the posibility of an us. I fear he doesn't exist. But what is more... I believe soldier could be him. He enjoyed me for me. He talked to me for me. He looked into my eyes and smiled just to see my smile. But I broke his resistance. Laying on the couch my head on his leg... I could not resist running my fingers over his thighs... running my nails up his chest and down... knowing perfectly well what I was doing, on a subconscious level. Squirming against his every will-power. He finally stood up and he said, "you know what... no, I don't care anymore, you did this... do you see this?". He said that jerking down his shorts exposing his incredible yumminess to me. I was in shock. No one had spoken to me like that. But he was right. He was completely right! I did this.

He took me after that. 900% willing! We wanted to wait through that weekend. But I tested him until he broke. But he still wanted to be with me. When will I believe in myself enough to stop testing. It's like I don't want them close. I use this sexual demon inside of me to steal all of the control. And I know I have heart, I have passion, I have loyalty, and an incredible amount of compassion. Why am I so afraid to be really loved? There are these parts of me and they fight back and forth. I can't completely supress this sexual side or I lose it, like I did in my marriage. This is a part of me, just as my mind is and my heart is. I need to find an ability for co-existance.

I want to be better when he gets home. I want to be everything he deserves and everything he needs! I spoke to him three nights this week and it meant so much to me. I've been drugged! I've been re-filled with the love he offers. Everything a life with him represents. But I have to be healthy enough inside to give us the chance to be a team, a couple. If only I can learn to stop sabotaging things!! I have to get through this for him and for me! I have to stop believing these stories about back rubs, because they are never just back rubs. I need to protect us and learn to protect me.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Front Seat Driving...

In 99.9% of all of my sexual activities... I am not the aggressor. I am such a happy follower. You want your cock in my mouth... I'll put your cock in my mouth. You want me on top... baby, I'm on top. But when a guy is shy, it just can't work this way. I become like a hungry lionness starving for a kill.

So after three grueling months of watching this incredibly hot guy watch me at the gym, I had to do something. He'd look and I'd look... we'd catch eachother looking and smile and look somemore or look away shyly. No matter how you shook it... we both wanted it! So I made a move. Time after time I would come out of the tanning room and he'd be standing just outside the door... covered in sweat... with those dark, deep eyes. Fuck this... I stuck my hand out and introduced myself. I couldn't take it anymore. The shy smiles and stolen glances... I wanted my hands all over that slippery body.

I don't navigate the dating world well... not the real one, at least. I'm a fucking pro (semi-literally) when it comes to the online dating arena. But this was real. For a couple more weeks we exchanged just a couple flirtatious words and left it at that. He went back to lifting and I went home, smiling. Finally we chatted about halloween. I told him what I was and showed him a picture from my phone. As I closed my phone he offered his number. I giggled, fucking of course I wanted it and took it happily. I see him at the gym and now our stolen glances involve smirks and we snicker as his gym partner tries to set us up, unknowingly.

We've met a few times since. And it has been nothing short of our interludes at the gym. We both end up sweaty and exhausted. But this boy still does not make the first moves. He totally wants it... but he is just not a front seat driver.

He stood by me at the side of his couch, "I'm gonna jump in the shower now". I bit my lower lip and traced my finger tips along the inside of the elastic of his gym shorts. I looked up at him and said okay... he instantly changed his mind. "Well maybe I can wait a bit". I can't help but want to rip his clothes off. His chest is so completely addicting! Shit, I thought tits looked good... but they don't got anything on how incredibe his body looks and feels!

I'm trying to take the driver's seat and get him to open up with me. God knows the boy gets involved when he has me on my hands and knees in his bed. So why doesn't he make the moves? I don't know that I'm prepared to be in the front seat all the time! Hopefully it is his age and the more he is with me, the more he grows to love taking control with me. Besides, I don't bite...

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Drive Home...

The drive home is always the same. It's a blank stare out my windshield. It is a stare so strong I lose my place... I fade into the dashed lines and the double yellows. I follow the road some how oblivious to where I am going. It is mechanical and I am blind. I don't see... I am numb... I am probably high.

Why did I go there, why did I drive my car, why did I rearrange my time, how did I think it would end any different? My therapist tells me I am testing it. Testing them to see if they will always let me down and testing me to see if I will always pick a path I consider a failure. I replay the scenario over and over praying and hoping for a different ending. But there isn't one.

Tonight he was a gentleman. My therapist commonly helps me make sense of it in my head. My lame attempts at 'no'... "those were enough," she reassures me. Everytime we fall back to the same line, "he should have listened, he should have stopped". This time he asked, "do you want me to stop?" ... I never said, "yes". So, he didn't stop. He just kept telling me I was so pretty... so damn pretty. Like it was my fault he couldn't resist. It's already my fault I can't resist, it can't be my fault he can't resist too!

I didn't want it. I somehow couldn't get over what it would mean if I said no. I don't even know why. His kiss was small, closed, and tasted of stale everything and dill pickles. It was enough to make me gag. He was good looking, but not overly so. I was not drawn to him. There was no attraction. So... so what if I said no? I didn't want it. Why isn't that enough? He kissed and sucked my neck and it made me nervous. I could feel him over-sucking... I was terrified of who would know. Which next/current guy would see? I look like a leopard. Who knows if I will ever see him again and who cares? There was a time when they had to be repeats so I didn't feel I let my guard down in vain. Now, there have been so many... and so many I don't ever want to see or feel again... what does it really matter?

I'm driving home as a spotted leopard... I'm driving home numb... I'm driving home from a stranger's house. And it has been a few weeks from hell. I'm not sure when the hell will end. It started with a letter in the mail telling me they had found something off with my pap smear that would need to be addressed further. It's not quite over... but I have been diagnosed with HPV. A disgusting, completely common, and mainly unpreventable virus that I didn't know one goddamn thing about before it took over my body.

I flash to... 'this would all be easier if...' But I couldn't do that. When I was 16... I thought I could do it and tried several times. And everytime I stopped. Everytime I came back to the same thought. If I hurt myself, my mother would die of a broken heart. Everytime it was always you, mom. Everytime it made me stop. And it always will... if I fell that far again.

My therapist reassured me... this is a hard time. Two of my most very basic necessities that we all need in life to survive, to sustain, and to move on... are being threatened. I feel I have taken on a blunt attack. My health and my home. I am consumed with panic. I find myself crying for my husband, my best friend. He reassured me. He held me. He steadied me. ... he is no longer an option. I must find this steadiness and comfort on my own. So I claw and crawl my way out of this hole I am in.

But driving down the road I am blank and numb. Angry at myself. Angry at my inability to prevent these situations. I keep thinking if I just know the point where I start to fall into the addiction, maybe I can stop it there. Stop before the rush crashes over me. Stop before the temptation consumes me. But why on the drive home does it all have to surface? Why do I have to feel all the guilt and shame? Why do I feel so numb at this moment? Just get me home safe... in my own body, because right now I feel completely out of it.