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.

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.

Fuck Or Be Fat?

I came to a place last week where I felt like all the addiction was piling up. Smothering me in a mess of all things unhealthy. I'd take one opportunity as it came, and the next, and again the next. But as much as I love the sex... the strangers, the unhealthy patterns, and the bad situations... the emotional sabotage was getting to be too great. It was more than I could afford internally.

So, I tried to stop. I made the decision to close off my sexuality. I decided I was stronger than that. I decided I could fight. I can be healthy. I decided I would stick with just one male, fuck-friend... if you will. With the exception of one hottie I've been dying to meet.

Sitting in the room with my therapist we discussed relationships. For approximately the hundreth time I mentioned my belief that although I wanted the emotional stability, the attention, and the love that comes from a relationship... I just didn't feel I was prepared to love as I believe a man deserves to be loved and treated. I say this after having walked away from the incredible man that I had as a husband. It was part of my entire rational behind separating.

... but she called me on my bullshit this time. "Why aren't you ready?", she questioned me. I smirked across the dim room, knowing exactly where she was going. "I don't know," I said, gazing out the window. ... I have been busting my ass for months focusing on who I am, where I am, where I'm going, who I want to be. If I can look inside myself and be prepared to constantly be trying to be a better me, why couldn't I love and be prepared to constantly be bettering an us? I was following the idea that I have to love myself first. But honestly... I have no idea when that love will really exist. I love things about myself. But to love as completely as I would love another... I doubt it. But I can appreciate my strengths. Maybe that is the best I can do.

So ... there I was, trying to be a one-man fuck toy. And suddenly I was consumed by hunger. A hunger I had before. There was not one goddamn thing I didn't want. Cravings fell upon me so strong. And worse of all I succumbed. My strength was gone. I talked to my therapist a very small amount about my tendency to overeat. She wondered outloud to me what vacancy within me was being filled now, that I no longer needed the food to fill.

Smack in the face ... it is right there. I have to make a choice. Do I want to overeat and be fat and have a healthy sexlife? ... Or do I want to fuck whenever physically possible and continue my journey to being the thin, healthy, physical person I want to be? Choose. Black or white. I know no gray. Fuck, I have an addiction. A true addiction. Who was I to think I could just walk away?

I walked into her office with a frown on my face. All this work... all this time... all this effort. But if you ask me what I choose... I will pick to be thin everytime!!! A compulsive overeater or a sex addict... hmmmm? Tell me you would choose different...? I don't think I have the strength to fight both. I want to be healthy. So, I decided I just have to find healthier sexual patterns to follow. But I won't go back to being fat! I won't go back!

What Is A Failure?

This weekend felt much like what I would imagine a failure feels like... much like I expected it would feel when you get too happy, too pleased, and satisfied all that is left is a crash. Life, afterall, cannot always be happy, can it? There I was on my mountain of hidden gold just enjoying the view but I feel like I hit a mud slide, maybe not even just one but a series of them.

I guess there was never one really wrong thing but it just felt like nothing was going as planned, and the few things that stayed on track as planned didn't feel nearly as good as I had hoped. The weekend was supposed to be made up of dancing, excercising, and being near friends. The first event on the schedule was a boat trip with my cousin which, inevitably, was cancelled due to the rain. Instead I took a nap. This was really a good thing since all my time awake is sure to catch up with me at some point.

Then the plan was to take my cousin and roommate out to Singers, a local bar and karaoke hot spot just outside of Syracuse, where I was meeting up with some of my co-workers. This was probably the highlight of my weekend. I enjoyed a couple interesting new drinks and shamelessly flirted with the sexy-singing bartender. He had a smile that melted me with dimples, the adorable short spikey hair I'm dying to run my fingers through, incredible pecs that he was teasing us all with through his tight t-shirt, and a rocking ass. :P So I, of course, had to hit on him. My roommate suggested I ask him about making a 'wet pussy' and I did... it was really quite funny! Then after I drank my 'wet pussy', my 'purple rain', and my rum and Coke... I slurred over the bar to him. You're really fuckin' hot! He teased me asking if it was the 'purple rain' talking. I told him I thought it before the drink, that it was just helping me say it. HA! It was totally fun!

We left to go out dancing... but plans kept falling through. My roommate backed out of going. And shortly after we got out to start dancing my cousin wanted to leave. It proved to be a bit more than I could take. I got home just in time to flirt with my 38 year old friend and fall fast asleep. I woke up feeling the effects of the 'purple rain' and a bit pissed off about my previous evening. I figured for sure Saturday would be a better day.

We had plans to attend an exotic dance class and then go out dancing afterwards. I was super psyched about the class thinking how sexy and good I would feel about myself after the fabulous and costly workout.

I write this in the name of the honesty I proclaimed in my first-ever post. ... I took the day Saturday to relapse a bit into my previously diagnosed sexual addiction. It had been almost a month and a half since I had slept with anyone. Partially because I wanted the last him to be my one and only... and partially because sleeping around is just not healthy physically or emotionally. ... But I am weak when it comes to soldiers. I called up an old fuck buddy (soldier-friend) and asked if he wanted some. Of course he did! I sent a declaration text before I went over ... that I would not be leaving until he made me cum. I went to his house and laid with him on the couch for a short while before we were both teased enough to get ourselves up off the gorgeous leather couches and stumble to the back bedroom. It was quick and delicious... but I came so I really didn't care either way. I kept telling myself this was a physical need I was fulfilling. Was it? ... Can I say with 100% certainty that this fuck was only because my body couldn't stand to go without? I'm not sure.

The dance class was a bust. Not because the class wasn't fun... because it was. Watching the super hot dance instructor give us her demonstrations may have been worth the $22 alone. But having to watch myself in the mirror felt like a challenge from the moment I walked in. I felt so sick with myself. Here I have worked my ass off - literally, for the past 4 monthes... and staring into this mirror it felt like nothing. She would sway her tiny little hips and her ass would stick out. She'd instruct us to straighten our legs so our body would make the curvature that is so desirable. I just kept looking in the mirror wishing my body looked like hers, in disgust and disapproval that my body was curvy without making those hip motions... my ass already sticks out! I felt in that moment absolutely displeased with myself. It motivated me to want to go to the gym and work harder, but I walked away feeling like a piece of shit that thus far has accomplished nothing. I can assure you... this is not how I wanted to walk away from the class.

I went out after the class despite my shattered ego. Even more importantly... I went alone. This is absolutely unheard of for me and some would even consider it unsafe. I was to meet my friend downtown to share a martini before moving on to go dancing. I was paralyzed by my social anxiety disorder. I sat in my car waiting for my friend to arrive... wishing the minutes would tick by a little quicker. I was seeking someone's approval, any man's approval. I flipped through the numbers and names in my phone wishing one of them would jump out at me, wishing I knew one of them was reliable enough to be there to answer an IM or text on a Saturday evening. I found one. A guy from New Jersey... normally working on Saturdays was there. He answered and requested pictures of me. YES!!! ... I thought... this I can do. I jumped out of my minivan and snapped a few photos in the dim light of the parking garage. I sent them along for his review... and as always he was pleased. Very pleased!

The drinks at the bar were okay. I felt misplaced with this group of people on couches at a martini bar, I prefer cheap, sweet liquor you can't taste. I tried to fit. We eventually made our way across the street to go dancing. The crowd was so thick it was difficult to not step on toes. These people I was with... they were old-fashioned or something. I felt like some two cent hooker dancing beside them. I kept thinking... you have to use your ass... thats the point. I felt misplaced again. Finally the heat was over-baring and we started to make our way for the doors. Despite spending the entire time not being asked to dance... as I started to leave I was... I guess you might call it, attacked by a group of guys. One guy put his hand over my face and pushed my head down. I couldn't see where I was going, so not thinking anything of it, I stopped. I was instantly surrounded by a group of hot young guys. Had this been any other type of approach I would have loved the attention. One guy realized how large my breasts were and went nuts roaring "WHOOOAAA," as he looked at my tits bug-eyed ... and they jumpped on my like a group of monkeys on the last goddamn banana in the jungle. They pressed on me and touched me. And everytime I thought I could get away they pushed down my face again. Who the fuck was touching my face??? Why couldn't I step away? Just as I was about to be in tears I found an opening and slipped out. I caught up to my friend and said my goodbyes. This night proved to be way more than I could bare. I raced through downtown, with way too much skin exposed, all alone clutching my key in one hand and black velvet purse in the other. I made it to the comfort of my minivan where I burst into sobbing tears... it was too much, just too much.

Sunday I poured myself into men again. Still longing for my approval. I felt sick with me, sick with everything. I talked to a soldier from Ft. Drum... and as usual it turned into a sexual endeavor. Through most of our conversation I knew where it was headed. I made small adjustments to remind him I wasn't looking for a random romp, but really I didn't do or say enough. I teased him until, as he said it... "I seduced him into driving an hour and a half just to see me". I'm fine with that, I'm happy to have that power. I made playful attempts to say he may not get laid... but we both knew he would. We watched a movie where I spent most of the time in his lap rubbing his thighs and chest before making my way up his pant legs and then inevitably pulling him into my bedroom to fuck the shit out of him.

Well... there you go... sexual addiction at its finest. I was feeling so strong and now I feel like I've let it all go. And worse yet... tonight I have plans to see an ex and the sex portion is already planned out. I honestly can't wait because this ex-navy hottie is always incredible in bed!

So where the fuck did I lose it? How did I let this fabulously planned weekend turn to shit? I really shouldn't express complete disapproval for my sexual expiditions... because I did and do love them, I guess I just hate how I feel after sometimes. I hate the numbers, there is something to be said for a woman that is sexually confident... but I don't know if I should be proud or ashamed, and I think I lean toward shame. Was this weekend a failure? I don't want to sink much lower. I want to go back to my focus and stay strong!!