There are two big factors and a bunch of small ones. The first big one is that I am a sex addict. What does this mean? It comes from my Asperger's, a condition that is no longer recognized by the professional body of psychiatric professionals; we are all Autistic now. ASD people tend to obsess over certain things, trains, planes or automobiles, or in my case, Sex. Actually that is a pretty common obsession, considering how sex obsessed our culture is and how much emphasis is on it to prove that you are having a successful relationship. Honestly, most guys do not think about sex once every thirty seconds, I think I heard that most men think about it three times a day or less. I am trying to calculate how many times I thought about sex yesterday without using hyperbole. I think about sex about five to ten times an hour, sometimes more, sometimes less. For the record, when I am talking to you, I am not thinking about sex, but when there are silences and pauses when I am not thinking over a problem or not listening to a conversation . . ..
Okay I thought up another factor, so change that to three major factors.
I am very introverted, less now than I used to be. Yes, before I was a virtual shut-in, inside my head, and always could never tell people anything and very slowly open up and form extremely deep friendships that have lasted decades. Deep enough that they remember me fondly and look me up on Facebook. Well not the ones that I told that I was attracted to, they felt I had betrayed the friendship and never want to talk to me again and there are a lot of them too. Part of my learned introversion, don't talk about it or bad things will happen and part of my soul will leave me forever. I learned that one too slowly, so I guess that is another factor and a pretty big one, now that I think of it.
The second factor, now the fourth, is that I am not a real man. Bold statement, but I can explain. Most guys have the ability to think of nothing. They do things and they get done but there is no thinking involved. Women do not understand this, some don't believe it, and I, to tell you the truth, don't either, because I can't do that. Probably part of the reason I am so obsessive and why women treat me like one of them. I also think in terms of relationships, I fall in love with people before I approach them, not that this is a female thing, it is more like a Me thing. There is something about me that is distinctly female; I am not sure what it is, but it is something that women have told me for many years. Women have treated me like a girlfriend, telling me about their deepest secrets, their fears and concerns; their boyfriends — length and girth, but also that fantastic date they had last night with all the details.
The most female part of me that really kills me, is that I NEED an emotional connection in sex. I have heard, many times, many women, that sex is fun but not fantastic until they are connected emotionally to them; no orgasms until they are in love with them. This is me. It kills me because the people I have a connection with, whom I love, would feel betrayed if I broach sex with them, so I don't. I don't have the social skills to ask someone who I don't have a connection with, who I feel comfortable with. So, I don't have sex.
This is why MPTR hurt me so much. When I came to accept that sex was always going to be a disappointment, there was a measure of peace in my life. With her, virtually the only time love and sex have been paired, there was joy in sex. Clinically, there was a positive reinforcement to my obsession for the first time ever.
So my obsession has gotten worse. I have, at first been trying to separate my emotions from sex, unsuccessfully, by visiting professionals, prostitutes. I have been trying to feel what I had with MPTR, More Passive Than Rain, without the emotional connection. I can't do it. I came back to Smallville because my obsession drove me to it. And without it, I just want to die. I don't love MPTR now, she drove it out of me, part of me thinks she knew what she was doing (that would be the irrational part of me) and now I am left with this constant pressure obsession, with no means to satisfy it. I want to die.
I work 12 hour days so I am too tired think about it constantly, but it is there waiting for me. I know that by putting it off by working too hard, I am making it worse for me when I stop working, part of me does not care who I hurt as long as it stops.
This was supposed to be a post about why I visit professionals, but now it reads like a suicide note. I don't care anymore
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