How to "Lose the Groove"
Sexual Addiction as a Barrier to a Full “Actualization”????
My thoughts remain somewhat confused and tentative. I don’t write this to preach to anyone else as to what they might or should choose. I’m an Atheist turned Christian reverted to Atheist. I've no axe to grind, only thoughts to share. And given the audience I will be interested in the feedback.
I became fairly preoccupied with sex in my early twenties. I married at 21 and stayed faithful in actions for about 7 excruciating years. I divorced after 10 years and remarried within a year. My new wife was extremely hot…playboy centerfold type hot. She liked sex, but was still very conservative from a sexual perspective. I was immersed to trying to understand my relationship to a God that I've long since realized was a cosmic joke. So, I tried to remain faithful, which lasted about one year. A proposition from a very hot fellow employee soon ended that commitment. Simultaneously was the discovery of Strip clubs and whack shacks.
By 35 my world was chaotic. I was having affairs with multiple women with the mistaken idea that I was going to find some missing piece/peace. Then I began to realize it was not a different relationship but rather just the sexual encounter I loved. I then had less affairs and more fuck buddies. The strip club became my outlet. I didn’t want to stop my behavior, but also didn't feel in control. I was spending more money than I wanted and the thoughts preoccupied my mind.
I went on a vacation with my family and friends. I was one day into the trip when sores began forming in my mouth. I knew it was herpes. I felt so fucking stupid. This was just one realization of my “addiction.”
I use the word addiction very carefully. Many aspects of my preoccupation with sex fit the classic definition. Still, there are so many psychological, physiological and societal components to our behavior that I dislike that term for my preoccupation, yet it still kinda works in defining my behavior.
Then there was Michelle. I met her at a whack shack when she was 23. She was blond, thin, blue eyes, and able to converse about multiple levels of sexuality quite freely. She had a thing for older men. I questioned the reality of this, but she never wavered in actions or words. I spent my time that day just talking for 30 minutes. She gave me her phone number and email. Thus began a 4 year friendship.
Michelle was in a relationship at the time I met her. She was actually in multiple relationships during our friendship, but we always communicated. I didn't have sex with her for about 2 years. The first time was at a different whack shack. She pulled out some rubbers and said “let’s have some real fun.” I’d love to say that the sex was incredible and mind blowing, but it wasn't. It was good and she was young and so fucking hot.
One late night at about 1am we hooked up and went to a strip bar. We were sitting at the bar talking when I knew that we had something different. I was able to get through the veneer of her stripper life and accept her totally for who she was. Like wise, she knew I was a cheating old horn dog and didn't really care, just wanted to help me explore that part of myself.
One night in June of 2013 I told my wife I wanted a divorce and went and spent the night with Michelle. It was an incredible night of bar hopping and being 100% myself with total acceptance by the woman I was with…and the sex was incredible. I woke up the next morning consumed with doubt and maybe even some guilt. I didn't feel much love for my wife, but loved my two teenage daughters and did not want to lose those relationships. They have been raised to be fiercely independent and would have despised Michelle. I told Michelle that I couldn't do this now and went home to try and reconcile.
Two days later I get a phone call from Michelle’s friend at 5am. What the fuck do I do??? Michelle has overdosed and isn't breathing. This was the first my wife knew of Michelle. I directed her to call 911 and Michelle spend the next 5 days in the hospital. Unbeknownst to me this was the second time Michelle had attempted to kill herself. She of course blamed it on me leaving her.
I was attempting to mend fences with my wife. I went to the strip club and talked with a favorite for an hour about my dilemma. She promised to fuck my brains out when I left my wife…something to look forward to experiencing.
The general consensus of my two wives and a few therapists was that I was severely impaired with a narcissistic personality disorder… they are probably extremely accurate.
I couldn't keep away from Michelle. She was my heroin. Six months later we are talking again and begin to meet. The sex was simultaneously preeminent and secondary. Preeminent in that she was so fuckable, secondary because we would just sleep in each others arms with no sex at all. It was a fucking relationship.
She desperately wanted me to leave my wife. She was convinced that she could make me so much happier. I’m to old to believe that shit, but she was young and naive.
Then the phone call. Seven am and I’m still at home right before leaving for a shift. I hang up and call her back while driving. She sounds drunk and accuses of me being just like her father. I just didn't pay any attention to her. I was still in love with my wife. I was just a bastard. She sounded distraught and I was an asshole. I listened and agreed with her, but was dispassionate. I felt nothing at the time, cold and insensitive. Angry she called me while I was at home. Narcissistic to the fucking hilt.
She hung up. I tried calling and texting but no answer. It felt so fucking ominous. I kept trying for the next month but nothing. I hoped she was just mad with me, but it felt wrong. She always answered my texts. I was her emotional support…fucking poor support that it was.
That morning an intoxicated and beautiful 27 year old girl put a bullet through her head. The brains were splattered. I found out the details from a fellow sex worker after she gave me a show and hand job.
Later Michelle’s mom called me to find out what had been going on the day she died. I was the last number she dialed. Her mom knew that I had been important to her and that I’d offered her some emotional support.
That morning started a self exploration that has altered my existence. I’m still narcissistic, only more acutely aware and trying to compensate. I am actively working at making human connections a more prominent part of my life. I've given up all extra curricular activities and devoted myself to making up to my wife the ravages my behavior has had on our relationship. I slowly bent my mind around the realities of what I did to contribute to Michelle’s death. I have now chosen to honor her by not actively objectifying women. I try to look at the deeper part of who they are and where they have come from. Many of the women are self deluded into thinking that these choices are totally theirs. The truth is generally very far from self determination they would like to cling.
A part of me would open a shelter for the women needing help in the sex industry. I’d probably just try to fuck them all. I can alter my behavior, but given the right conditions I would most likely be back at the same old game. That’s the thing about living differently. I feel clearer. I’m also acutely aware that I haven’t necessarily changed. I could still enjoy the strip clubs and the sex. It has finally become more important to honor the part of us that is greater than the sex.
Still an atheist.
Still married.
Still having a relationship with my daughters.
Still trying to honor Michelle as the kind hearted person she could be.
DJ
My thoughts remain somewhat confused and tentative. I don’t write this to preach to anyone else as to what they might or should choose. I’m an Atheist turned Christian reverted to Atheist. I've no axe to grind, only thoughts to share. And given the audience I will be interested in the feedback.
I became fairly preoccupied with sex in my early twenties. I married at 21 and stayed faithful in actions for about 7 excruciating years. I divorced after 10 years and remarried within a year. My new wife was extremely hot…playboy centerfold type hot. She liked sex, but was still very conservative from a sexual perspective. I was immersed to trying to understand my relationship to a God that I've long since realized was a cosmic joke. So, I tried to remain faithful, which lasted about one year. A proposition from a very hot fellow employee soon ended that commitment. Simultaneously was the discovery of Strip clubs and whack shacks.
By 35 my world was chaotic. I was having affairs with multiple women with the mistaken idea that I was going to find some missing piece/peace. Then I began to realize it was not a different relationship but rather just the sexual encounter I loved. I then had less affairs and more fuck buddies. The strip club became my outlet. I didn’t want to stop my behavior, but also didn't feel in control. I was spending more money than I wanted and the thoughts preoccupied my mind.
I went on a vacation with my family and friends. I was one day into the trip when sores began forming in my mouth. I knew it was herpes. I felt so fucking stupid. This was just one realization of my “addiction.”
I use the word addiction very carefully. Many aspects of my preoccupation with sex fit the classic definition. Still, there are so many psychological, physiological and societal components to our behavior that I dislike that term for my preoccupation, yet it still kinda works in defining my behavior.
Then there was Michelle. I met her at a whack shack when she was 23. She was blond, thin, blue eyes, and able to converse about multiple levels of sexuality quite freely. She had a thing for older men. I questioned the reality of this, but she never wavered in actions or words. I spent my time that day just talking for 30 minutes. She gave me her phone number and email. Thus began a 4 year friendship.
Michelle was in a relationship at the time I met her. She was actually in multiple relationships during our friendship, but we always communicated. I didn't have sex with her for about 2 years. The first time was at a different whack shack. She pulled out some rubbers and said “let’s have some real fun.” I’d love to say that the sex was incredible and mind blowing, but it wasn't. It was good and she was young and so fucking hot.
One late night at about 1am we hooked up and went to a strip bar. We were sitting at the bar talking when I knew that we had something different. I was able to get through the veneer of her stripper life and accept her totally for who she was. Like wise, she knew I was a cheating old horn dog and didn't really care, just wanted to help me explore that part of myself.
One night in June of 2013 I told my wife I wanted a divorce and went and spent the night with Michelle. It was an incredible night of bar hopping and being 100% myself with total acceptance by the woman I was with…and the sex was incredible. I woke up the next morning consumed with doubt and maybe even some guilt. I didn't feel much love for my wife, but loved my two teenage daughters and did not want to lose those relationships. They have been raised to be fiercely independent and would have despised Michelle. I told Michelle that I couldn't do this now and went home to try and reconcile.
Two days later I get a phone call from Michelle’s friend at 5am. What the fuck do I do??? Michelle has overdosed and isn't breathing. This was the first my wife knew of Michelle. I directed her to call 911 and Michelle spend the next 5 days in the hospital. Unbeknownst to me this was the second time Michelle had attempted to kill herself. She of course blamed it on me leaving her.
I was attempting to mend fences with my wife. I went to the strip club and talked with a favorite for an hour about my dilemma. She promised to fuck my brains out when I left my wife…something to look forward to experiencing.
The general consensus of my two wives and a few therapists was that I was severely impaired with a narcissistic personality disorder… they are probably extremely accurate.
I couldn't keep away from Michelle. She was my heroin. Six months later we are talking again and begin to meet. The sex was simultaneously preeminent and secondary. Preeminent in that she was so fuckable, secondary because we would just sleep in each others arms with no sex at all. It was a fucking relationship.
She desperately wanted me to leave my wife. She was convinced that she could make me so much happier. I’m to old to believe that shit, but she was young and naive.
Then the phone call. Seven am and I’m still at home right before leaving for a shift. I hang up and call her back while driving. She sounds drunk and accuses of me being just like her father. I just didn't pay any attention to her. I was still in love with my wife. I was just a bastard. She sounded distraught and I was an asshole. I listened and agreed with her, but was dispassionate. I felt nothing at the time, cold and insensitive. Angry she called me while I was at home. Narcissistic to the fucking hilt.
She hung up. I tried calling and texting but no answer. It felt so fucking ominous. I kept trying for the next month but nothing. I hoped she was just mad with me, but it felt wrong. She always answered my texts. I was her emotional support…fucking poor support that it was.
That morning an intoxicated and beautiful 27 year old girl put a bullet through her head. The brains were splattered. I found out the details from a fellow sex worker after she gave me a show and hand job.
Later Michelle’s mom called me to find out what had been going on the day she died. I was the last number she dialed. Her mom knew that I had been important to her and that I’d offered her some emotional support.
That morning started a self exploration that has altered my existence. I’m still narcissistic, only more acutely aware and trying to compensate. I am actively working at making human connections a more prominent part of my life. I've given up all extra curricular activities and devoted myself to making up to my wife the ravages my behavior has had on our relationship. I slowly bent my mind around the realities of what I did to contribute to Michelle’s death. I have now chosen to honor her by not actively objectifying women. I try to look at the deeper part of who they are and where they have come from. Many of the women are self deluded into thinking that these choices are totally theirs. The truth is generally very far from self determination they would like to cling.
A part of me would open a shelter for the women needing help in the sex industry. I’d probably just try to fuck them all. I can alter my behavior, but given the right conditions I would most likely be back at the same old game. That’s the thing about living differently. I feel clearer. I’m also acutely aware that I haven’t necessarily changed. I could still enjoy the strip clubs and the sex. It has finally become more important to honor the part of us that is greater than the sex.
Still an atheist.
Still married.
Still having a relationship with my daughters.
Still trying to honor Michelle as the kind hearted person she could be.
DJ
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7 comments
I can't say I've been in your shoes since by choice I never married nor had children.
But I have been around strippers enough to know/feel they often have unstable and troubled lives (often times even prior to stripping) and that their instability and troubles/problems will often impact your (custy) life and often times their problems become your problems.
Consciously or subconsciously; we often want to “have our cake and eat it too” - i.e. all actions have consequences and often times we enjoy doing the deed but then complain about the consequences as if we were not responsible for them – i.e.
“we reap what we sow”
w.r.t. “sex addiction” - IDK – I'm not a mental-health professional to understand the true definition of sex addiction. I just see it as a need most men (more than women IMO) have just like hunger and the need for food – if you are hungry and not satisfied then you will seek food; perhaps the same w/ sex; as long as one's needs are not being met you'll seek it until that need is met/satisfied.
I am very sorry about what happened to Michelle. I have a young dancer that I am very close to at the moment, and I would be devastated if anything happened to her. I worry about her sometimes because she works in a dangerous job and she is much too trusting of people. If anything like this ever happened to her and if I were somehow involved, even indirectly, I don't know how I would get over it. So I think at least to some degree I understand the pain you're going through.
One of the things that is different about Michelle and my dancer friend is that Michelle apparently thought she was in love with you and wanted a genuine romantic relationship with you. Of course it's usually the other way around, with the guy being the one that loses all control and falls in love with the sex worker. My girl has a thing for older men too, and I believe her, but she would never in a million years suggest that I leave my wife to be with her. At least not unless I win the lottery. My point is that Michelle, despite all of her positive attributes, clearly had a very serious mental illness. And that illness clearly went far far beyond the usual stripper shit that we are all so familiar with.
You are not in any way shape or form responsible for her death because you are not in any way responsible for her illness which killed her. I'm sure she struggled with depression all her life. I have some personal experience with depression, and so I know what I'm talking about. It is an insidious, horrible disease that even with treatment sometimes cannot be managed. Even mentally ill people who are under the direct care of a medical professional sometimes lose it and do stupid shit like killing themselves. There is absolutely nothing that you could or should have done any differently. This girls problems were totally independent from you. If you had not come into her life, it would've been some other guy that she was talking to just before she killed herself. There were no words you could say and no things you could do that would have kept her from suicide.
Based on your description of yourself, I don't for one second buy into all the psychobabble labels that therapists, psychiatrists, and wives have put on you. What you describe are the normal sexual needs of a man and the women in your daily life who won't fulfill those needs. The details vary, but any man in the situation you describe is eventually going to stray in one form or another. You found actual women to fuck whereas some other unfulfilled guys might be too timid to do that and just stick with Internet porn. But there's nothing unique about your sexual needs and history.
You seem to have a very low self image, probably in part because you place some type of blame on yourself for this girl's death. Therefore, you are willing to accept all of the negative labels that are put on you, and probably add some labels of your own, because you feel like crap about yourself. But those who diagnose men whose sexual needs aren't met as being addicts, or as having a narcissistic disorder, or whatever, are full of shit. That's just politically correct jargon that is meant to keep men in the place that a female dominated society thinks that they should occupy. You sound like a pretty normal PL just like the rest of the men in our world.
As an example of my point, take your suggestion that catching oral herpes meant that you were out of control. You can catch that just by kissing, and at most it's only very marginally accurate to characterize it as an STD. Plus the vast majority of the population have cold sores in their mouth. Having that has no correlation whatsoever to being some sort of a sex addict. The fact that you feel otherwise suggests to me that you have bought hook line and sinker the politically correct social image of men as predators who need to be controlled and contained.
You are apparently committed to working things out with your wife. That's fine, and I wouldn't try to dissuade you if you are convinced that's the right thing to do. However, I do think you should do so for the right reasons or else it won't last. Trying to honor Michelle is really not a valid reason to stay with your wife. And I suspect that if she knew that is one of the reasons that you are trying to work things out with her, your wife would probably agree with me on that point. Also, maintaining the relationship with your daughters is not a reason to stay with your wife. I speak from personal experience on this one because I did the same thing for years. You need to have an independent, loving relationship with your daughters that is not dependent on your relationship to your wife. You are their father, not just their mother's husband. Plus, you'd probably be surprised that your daughters would still love you even if you weren't with their mother. Again, I used to feel exactly like you about how I needed to be with my wife to maintain my relationship to my daughters. I'm now separated from my wife and I have learned this was not true.
The reason to stay with your wife involves things like you are in love with her, she is committed to trying to be a better wife and meet your needs, you are happy with her, etc. I wonder if any of those things are true in your marriage since you don't mention them. You shouldn't stay in a marriage just because society, family, church, friends or whoever says you should. If you do that, your life will be miserable. Again, I speak from experience.
I'm interested in how you got into and out of Christianity. However, I don't know if others would be interested, so consider sending me a PM with the details if you want to discuss.
Best of luck to you.