A milestone of sorts in my recovery
melliferal
Registrant
I've been both wanting and not wanting to post this thread for a few days - obviously until now the "not wanting" side won. There's a few reasons I was reluctant to start it, and I'll go ahead and list them before I get on to the business of the thing.
The first reason is that the post has to do with a certain event - the sort of event the telling of which may give rise to certain impressions about the intent of the teller. I am afraid people might get the wrong impression after what I'm about to say - this will become understandable as you read on. The second reason is that to be so excited about such a thing strikes me as really, really sophomoric, juvenile, and all around corny, and I try not to have too much interest in such things. Perhaps I wouldn't have as much interest in it, if fate hadn't dealt me a past which gives the event a significance that usually doesn't have. And the third reason is, I felt that a thread indicating happiness for such an event may seem insensitive, considering a number of other threads that have been showing up lately. I respect all of you here, and don't want to minimize or distract from anyone else's show. Some people have shared some very deep and difficult-to-communicate hurts, and it seems disrespectful to throw a thread with such levity in it up amongst their expressions. So please, please don't think I'm trying to be disrespectful.
OK, OK...what the heck happened, already? Sunday night, I had sex for the first time in YEARS. It was very wonderful, if you must know. But here's where the fear of mistaken impression comes in. I'm not saying this to brag. I'm posting this in this particular forum because it represents something in my road of recovery. I'm letting time decide whether it's a positive or negative step. But tentatively, I'm going to call it progress.
For those of you unfamiliar, I have something of a problem with sex. When my abuse ended, and after a while I began to understand that I was abused, I developed an acute aversion to sex. Sex was "damaged goods" to me. Because of the abuse I had been exposed to it, and had been brought to believe some very wrong things about sex - mostly that it was a cheap body thrill, that doing it in front of people was OK, and that there was nothing wrong with adults who happened to like watching (or recording) kids doing those sorts of things - even though much of the "outside world" disagreed. When I began to understand the fact that I was abused, I began to realize that all of those beliefs were basically planted in my head by those who wanted to exploit me. I felt very, very dirty and guilty about the things I had done, and became averse to nearly everything of a sexual nature. This was active at first, but later it became more of a subconscious process. Going through middle school and high school, I completely lacked any sort of sex drive. hearing sex talk in the lunchroom or locker room made me uncomfortable or even embarassed. And listening to all the "normal" little virgin dweebs make up stories about sex they never really had actually pissed me off. Later on in high school, I had sex a couple of times with my girlfriend, but I was real detached about it. I suppose you could say I "dissociated". The only reason I did it at all was because that's what young men my age (who weren't gay) were "supposed" to do. Since then, I've avoided sex with intent. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I think perhaps I was afraid that it might simply make me think of the abuse, and I'm afraid of whatever demons may be lurking on that road. Feelings and emotions are strong and confusing things. Would I end up comparing my partner's performance to that of my co-victims? Would I be disgusted, and suddenly be unable to "shine" at a crucial moment, and thus humiliate myself? I didn't want to face these questions. So, I didn't have sex, period. Up till now, it's been 8 years since the alleged "sex" I had with my girlfriend in high school.
So, I hope you can understand that when I say, "wow, I got laid Sunday!", I'm not being boasty and immature. I'm not celebrating "getting lucky". I'm celebrating getting over a major roadblock - hopefully you understand now just how major it was.
It shouldn't have been that way. I should be "normal". I should be bouncing so often it's not even worth mentioning anymore. I had a right to wonderfully and amusingly discover sex in my teens, like most people. I had a right to be able to laugh at sexual humor. I had a right to be able to make up stories about losing my virginity to tell the guys at lunchtime. I had a right to a normal, healthy sex drive, without any emotional baggage. I gave up all of these rights without realizing it, when my friends' parents said "hey, do this, and this, and that" and I said "OK". I didn't realize what I was giving up with my "consent". That's another one of the things that pisses me off when pervs cry about "consent" from the kids they rape. The perps buy their victims' "consent" with money or gifts or attention, but they never let on about what's in all the fine print down below. "Loving" pedophiles are the universe's most crooked lawyers.
None - none - of this stuff went through my mind Sunday night as I had the most enjoyable experience in recent memory. I didn't let my abusers spoil a good thing then, and I won't now. Please be happy for me!
Thank you for your attention, and sorry if this whole thing came off as really corny.
The first reason is that the post has to do with a certain event - the sort of event the telling of which may give rise to certain impressions about the intent of the teller. I am afraid people might get the wrong impression after what I'm about to say - this will become understandable as you read on. The second reason is that to be so excited about such a thing strikes me as really, really sophomoric, juvenile, and all around corny, and I try not to have too much interest in such things. Perhaps I wouldn't have as much interest in it, if fate hadn't dealt me a past which gives the event a significance that usually doesn't have. And the third reason is, I felt that a thread indicating happiness for such an event may seem insensitive, considering a number of other threads that have been showing up lately. I respect all of you here, and don't want to minimize or distract from anyone else's show. Some people have shared some very deep and difficult-to-communicate hurts, and it seems disrespectful to throw a thread with such levity in it up amongst their expressions. So please, please don't think I'm trying to be disrespectful.
OK, OK...what the heck happened, already? Sunday night, I had sex for the first time in YEARS. It was very wonderful, if you must know. But here's where the fear of mistaken impression comes in. I'm not saying this to brag. I'm posting this in this particular forum because it represents something in my road of recovery. I'm letting time decide whether it's a positive or negative step. But tentatively, I'm going to call it progress.
For those of you unfamiliar, I have something of a problem with sex. When my abuse ended, and after a while I began to understand that I was abused, I developed an acute aversion to sex. Sex was "damaged goods" to me. Because of the abuse I had been exposed to it, and had been brought to believe some very wrong things about sex - mostly that it was a cheap body thrill, that doing it in front of people was OK, and that there was nothing wrong with adults who happened to like watching (or recording) kids doing those sorts of things - even though much of the "outside world" disagreed. When I began to understand the fact that I was abused, I began to realize that all of those beliefs were basically planted in my head by those who wanted to exploit me. I felt very, very dirty and guilty about the things I had done, and became averse to nearly everything of a sexual nature. This was active at first, but later it became more of a subconscious process. Going through middle school and high school, I completely lacked any sort of sex drive. hearing sex talk in the lunchroom or locker room made me uncomfortable or even embarassed. And listening to all the "normal" little virgin dweebs make up stories about sex they never really had actually pissed me off. Later on in high school, I had sex a couple of times with my girlfriend, but I was real detached about it. I suppose you could say I "dissociated". The only reason I did it at all was because that's what young men my age (who weren't gay) were "supposed" to do. Since then, I've avoided sex with intent. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I think perhaps I was afraid that it might simply make me think of the abuse, and I'm afraid of whatever demons may be lurking on that road. Feelings and emotions are strong and confusing things. Would I end up comparing my partner's performance to that of my co-victims? Would I be disgusted, and suddenly be unable to "shine" at a crucial moment, and thus humiliate myself? I didn't want to face these questions. So, I didn't have sex, period. Up till now, it's been 8 years since the alleged "sex" I had with my girlfriend in high school.
So, I hope you can understand that when I say, "wow, I got laid Sunday!", I'm not being boasty and immature. I'm not celebrating "getting lucky". I'm celebrating getting over a major roadblock - hopefully you understand now just how major it was.
It shouldn't have been that way. I should be "normal". I should be bouncing so often it's not even worth mentioning anymore. I had a right to wonderfully and amusingly discover sex in my teens, like most people. I had a right to be able to laugh at sexual humor. I had a right to be able to make up stories about losing my virginity to tell the guys at lunchtime. I had a right to a normal, healthy sex drive, without any emotional baggage. I gave up all of these rights without realizing it, when my friends' parents said "hey, do this, and this, and that" and I said "OK". I didn't realize what I was giving up with my "consent". That's another one of the things that pisses me off when pervs cry about "consent" from the kids they rape. The perps buy their victims' "consent" with money or gifts or attention, but they never let on about what's in all the fine print down below. "Loving" pedophiles are the universe's most crooked lawyers.
None - none - of this stuff went through my mind Sunday night as I had the most enjoyable experience in recent memory. I didn't let my abusers spoil a good thing then, and I won't now. Please be happy for me!
Thank you for your attention, and sorry if this whole thing came off as really corny.
