Comments turned Blog PostPosted: January 13, 2014
I’ve been catching up on blog posts by some of my fellow sex-addicts, and left a few comments so long they almost became blog posts in and of themselves. Seeing myself and my activities reflected in the lives of others has helped me identify some important truths about who I am, what I am doing, and why. So, here they are.
“I feel like the life of a sex addict exists in technicolor, and the rest of the world is in black and white (a la Pleasantville). I love sex. I want more. I constantly crave new experiences and to push my boundaries. I love being a total slut, a full-fledged freak. I know there is more to it than simply enjoying the sexual release. I mean, if reaching orgasm was all that mattered I would just be a chronic masturbator
I crave the raw experience of being immersed in the exploration of another person’s primal side. I love someone losing control because of what I am doing to their body, and losing control because of what they are doing to mine. I admit, too, that I love feeling attractive, desired, and wanted. And I love that, unlike everything else I want to be that is gruelling and takes work (a good mom/wife/housekeeper/employee/photographer/daughter/citizen, etc, etc), being a slut or a freak is much more manageable. There are men and women out there who want my body and will hand me the sex I need and facilitate the development of my identity as a slut. And I feel powerful, because this thing I want, this basic human need, is something I can get. I may not be able to get a great job, or be a patient mom or perfect wife, I may not be successful or the envy of all my friends, but I can be a dirty little freak with next to no effort.
I do not want to give it up. I love sex, I want it, I crave it. It takes me out of myself and puts me in a space where the only thing I am experiencing is pure, undiluted ecstasy. I don’t have to think or be moral, I only have to follow my animal instincts. I am also prone to depression, and think about suicide more than I care to admit. The thing that keeps me going, the thing that makes my life bearable, is knowing that I get to fuck soon. That in a matter of hours or days, whichever it is, I will get laid and I will experience insane amounts of pleasure and I will be able to let go, be someone else, and let my body and brain be flooded with endorphins. And sure it is short lived, but then there is only a short while to go until the next encounter. I need it. And I would rather die than go back to monogamy.
“I tell myself that because I am happier getting the shit banged out of me by a variety of people, that my husband is happier too. I tell myself that since he says he doesn’t mind, I should believe him. I tell myself that I am not setting a bad example for my children–that sex is good and fun, and nothing to be ashamed of. That plenty of moms have hobbies–they work out, they belong to clubs, they volunteer–and this is mine. It is fine for me to spend less time with my family in order to be able to express myself and be happy. But deep down I wonder if I am ruining my life. I have been able to “moderate” my behaviour lately, to use the words of my sponsor. But I feel another spiral coming on. Another binge where I will go crazy fucking anything I can get my hands on. Where I will become so obsessed with sex that I live and breathe it–that it is all I can think about and the only thing that matters.
I really feel you, especially on the lack of appeal of a “responsible” life. I cannot imagine myself going vanilla again. I can’t imagine returning to monogamy. I can’t imagine never getting that new relationship feeling again, or the high that comes from different sexual experiences, exhibitionism, and pushing my boundaries. I feel like even if I were to travel the world or take up sky-diving, the highs of those experiences would not compare. And I am pretty sure I would rather die than return to the half-life I was living before.”
I hate thinking. It makes me feel like shit. And then, of course, to escape it, I want to have sex.