It’s been over a year since I’ve had sex. That’s more than 365 days without orgasms from another’s touch; without intimacy–physical or emotional–and I miss it terribly.
I thought I needed this break. Honestly, I considered it to be the timeout I should have taken after my marriage ended instead of jumping into another relationship; especially such an intense one. I don’t regret those three years with Mr. K, but in hindsight, it was time I should have used to learn how to be kinder to myself in every way, to dissect old patterns and redraw them; time to just be.
I didn’t make a conscious decision to take a sabbatical from sex for a full year. In the beginning, I couldn’t have guessed that my step back would last as long as it has. It started out as a much needed intermission of self-care after my breakup with Mr. K, but as time edged on, I settled into the separation as if it were an old pair of comfortable sweatpants. But I wasn’t healing behind the protective walls I’d resurrected–I was hiding.
The truth is, Mr. K and I never really broke up; not emotionally, at least. And after I moved beyond the point where I wanted to punch him in the throat, I let him slip back into my life. Even though I disliked him A LOT, I missed him and his support. We didn’t want to let go of each other completely and thought we could remain friends, because we were grown-ups. But the boundaries I’d defined were never respected, and I soon found myself stuck in a funnel of raw feelings for a man who still had a stronghold in my life. Before I knew it, I’d given him another year of me that he didn’t deserve.
When I met him, he accepted every piece of me, even what I felt were rough edges and flaws. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t judged or labeled for my sexual proclivities–I was praised for them. If I wanted to fuck a woman, he encouraged my desire. If I wanted to watch him suck a man’s cock, he did so willingly. It was a glorious feeling, but when our love affair failed, the thought of never finding that freedom again scared the hell out of me and trapped me in a situation that was destined to end badly…again. Couple that with the little issue I have with being too guarded when it comes to opening up to people and you have a recipe for disaster. Hey, it’s a defense mechanism I haven’t quite figured out how to power down. Anyway, those fears took shape, morphing into a shackle of self-doubt around my ankle that tethered me to a new, dysfunctional version of an old relationship.
I realize that now.
Mr. K knows that I haven’t liked him for a very long time, that there are even days when I hate him, but there is also a part of me that will always love him. He knows that too. He’s the man who unlocked pieces of my sexual self I never even knew existed, and our time together both in and out of the bedroom was incredibly fulfilling…until it wasn’t. And now I know that this thing we cultivated–this weird relationship–has kept me from moving forward with my life. It only took me a year to figure it out. Mostly because I didn’t want to see the truth, and then there was not wanting to admit that Heather was right. So please don’t tell her. I’ll never hear the end of it.
I know I’ve said over and over again that I didn’t have the time to date; that I was content with being alone, and it was the truth for a while, but I’ve reached the point where it’s not anymore. It hasn’t been for some time. I see that now too. I was unable to move forward because I was stuck in the past, but I have the power to free myself from that which binds me. I’m the only one who does, and I’m doing that now.