I have sex for all kinds of reasons, one of which is, of course, my relentless passionate desires and the love of sex and seduction itself.
But I also find refuge in fucking…
I have had sex when I’m happy and when I’m sad, when I am angry or frustrated and when I’m confident and passionate and intimate… I had sex out of duty or under pressure or to feel in control and grounded. I had sex to get what I want, or manipulate.
I have used it to feel something when I was numb and empty and to fill my confidence and self-worth voids. I’ve used it as a drug, a temporary high at times when I was severely dissatisfied with my life and myself, a way to distract myself from any real issues.
Now after that week of leisurely humping… I began to feel other voids creeping up on me… the withdrawal effects from the sex/drug, if you may.
Because when you use sex as a drug, it acts like a drug. It leads you away you from feeling the bad feelings, it numbs the pain, stops you from realising and understanding what is really going bad with your life. But also like a drug, it leaves you feeling emptier with an intensified pain than before. It fucks up your confidence more and makes you feel like you cannot survive without it.
And I know and knew that no amount of earth shattering fucking could fix me… the only person, who can fix me, is me… me, focusing on the problem, confronting my daemons and avoiding the distractions.
We met again and talked, but as if we had never fucked. I decided to contain myself and instead breath and meditate and use my alone time to reflect.
Don’t get me wrong, I also, fuck for love and fuck for lust and fuck for fun. But this was none of that…
Yes, this was me distracting myself in way…
I am distracting myself from missing him, wanting to be with him and craving him and his intimacy . I am diverting my thoughts of longing for his touch, his kiss, and the thrill of his passion and the effortless, weightless and deep connection, to superficial sex with no passion, except for the act. I’m distracting myself from being in love, a feeling I haven’t experienced or cared to admit for the longest time and the unfortunate fate of its guilt, immorality and unattainability.
Unlike drugs, this kind of sex, carries no hollow pits of withdrawal, on the contrary it leaves you feeling serene and light and fulfilled and elated. No amount of sex can replace intimacy.
I am also distracting myself from having to take the first step in finalising my divorce, with all that it entails from drama and fights and guilt-trips… from having to remember being beaten and broken and abused… from having to ignite the fire of rejection in my husband… from having to deal with the aftermath of ending a 16 year old relationship; emotionally, logistically and financially…
But the biggest distraction of all, is from my need to find a purpose to wake up in the morning, other than my kids waking me up; a dream, a goal, a passion… what ever it is. I need to find a reason to live other than the survival of my children.