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.
I think those ties formed through an intense relationship like that, especially one that involves lots of personal discoveries, can be VERY hard to break even when they are not longer happy and positive. I can totally relate to what you are writing here
mollyxxx