This is a bit of a long read. I've been through a lot of self reflection as of late. I feel that, if anyone is to come to a full understanding of my situation in order to reflect on it or give advice, they need to know the whole story. So here goes:
Certain aspects of my sexuality are enigmatic to me at this point in my life. I feel like I have come up against a wall in my understanding of my self in regards to who I am as a sexual being. I am looking for a way through this barricade in order to live and be content in my own skin so that I am better and more content in the context of a relationship.
My current and first serious relationship is one of two years. My partner is interested in intimacy with others. He values it far more highly than I do. I understand his feelings and perspectives on an intellectual level, but on an emotional level I have yet to feel anything the way he describes it.
While in a relationship with him I have had intimate experiences with others in order to "test the waters" as it were, to determine if this was something I was even interested in, as I had never tried anything of the sort. I experienced little to no arousal in any of the encounters. After the fact I experienced anxiety. Anxiety over the fact that I could not let my guard down the entirety of the time I was with the person, even though I knew and connected with them in any context other than sexually. Sure, I knew what to do physically in the act of sex. But psychologically and emotionally I was guarded and perhaps even distant, thus leading to a general sense of discontentment with the situations after the fact.
I don't understand how he can experience intimacy with someone else in the way that he does. The only way I have experienced the sort of emotional arousal that I require in order to achieve pleasure from sex is in the context of a committed partnership. And I don't entirely understand why this is. It bothers me to the extent that I am jealous of him for being able to find pleasure in encounters other than our own. I get angry at him, and at myself, for what feels like a fundamental disconnect. A part of me simply does not want to connect with people other than my partner in that way. It doesn't feel safe on a base level. That is not the entirety of me, but it is a very loud, powerful part.
For some background, I was raised conservative Christian. It was a negative, fear-based environment with little encouragement for self discovery outside of religion and spirituality. Reality was painted in black and white, and the "other" was to be hated and feared if they did not conform. Of course, inconsistencies abounded, and being yelled at "Do you think God would want you to do that?" for doing some normal childish thing certainly does not help a child to grow up with a sense of confidence about their life. The imprint of my imposing, judgmental father is still powerful in my psyche at the age of 28 despite leaving religion around the age of 24.
Sex was of course a taboo subject, and thus my sexual development was wrought with ignorance, guilt, and fear. I first remember masturbating around the age of 5 or 6. I may have started earlier than that, but I remember that age vividly as one of my older brothers walked in on me while I was masturbating. I'm not sure he knew what I was doing, as I had learned how to do it with my clothes on, but the event is burned into my mind for the terror, panic, and shame it inspired in me.
When I discovered what sex was, and began to have an interest in it, the true guilt set in. My sex drive was, and still is, powerful. However, I was terrified to pursue anything, even self pleasure, for the wrath of God was a mighty force within my mind. Any time I masturbated I would feel like I was going to be damned to hell, but I could not stop myself due to the very strong desires within me. I would try to go as long as I could without doing it, miserable days turning to miserable weeks of laying on my hands at night or curling into a fetal position with my hands entwined in my hair to stop myself from doing anything that could count as sinful. Except even my mind would wander to fantasies. And any good Christian knows that even just thinking about something sinful is the same as doing it.
I was too terrified to have sex or even get in a relationship with someone because, aside from the issue of that in itself being sinful (and several other factors I will talk about in a moment), I could contract an STI, or worse, get pregnant. However, my desire to have sex was powerful. Every day, sometimes multiple times a day, it was as though my body just took control of itself and my poor, prudish psyche could do nothing to stop it. Because I was not sexually active with another, I had to turn to masturbation, despite the immense guilt I felt about it, as was the only thing that would temporarily relieve the need.
So, not only was I hating myself for masturbating, but masturbation became this lesser, ugly thing in comparison to sex. Sex, which was raised on a pedestal as the most glorious thing a person could experience (so long as it was in the confines of marriage) while simultaneously being sold as a dirty, sinful act that should not be discussed or seen.
In college I was part of a Christian fellowship that actively denounced masturbating in a very vivid fashion. We were told that, if we couldn't be trusted not to masturbate to pornography, then we should tell a friend and have them police our use of our technology. I wasn't sure what to do about myself, as my own fantasies had always interested me more than anything I could watch.
At this point in my life I had convinced myself I had a sex addiction, as I could not "control" myself not to masturbate. I wasn't about to tell anyone, however. And I tried to make do by telling myself it was ok if I masturbated to fantasies of married couples. Except that got old after a while and I found myself becoming increasingly interested in thinking about group sex. It's a terrible thing, hating one's thoughts and self for what it is, but I did. I hated that part of me and tried to purge it with prayer and self deprecation. I hated anything to do with sex and sexuality that was outside the realm of what I had been raised with--that is, outside the context of a monogamous marriage.
Essentially, my sexual development was supremely fucked up.
Certain aspects of my sexuality are enigmatic to me at this point in my life. I feel like I have come up against a wall in my understanding of my self in regards to who I am as a sexual being. I am looking for a way through this barricade in order to live and be content in my own skin so that I am better and more content in the context of a relationship.
My current and first serious relationship is one of two years. My partner is interested in intimacy with others. He values it far more highly than I do. I understand his feelings and perspectives on an intellectual level, but on an emotional level I have yet to feel anything the way he describes it.
While in a relationship with him I have had intimate experiences with others in order to "test the waters" as it were, to determine if this was something I was even interested in, as I had never tried anything of the sort. I experienced little to no arousal in any of the encounters. After the fact I experienced anxiety. Anxiety over the fact that I could not let my guard down the entirety of the time I was with the person, even though I knew and connected with them in any context other than sexually. Sure, I knew what to do physically in the act of sex. But psychologically and emotionally I was guarded and perhaps even distant, thus leading to a general sense of discontentment with the situations after the fact.
I don't understand how he can experience intimacy with someone else in the way that he does. The only way I have experienced the sort of emotional arousal that I require in order to achieve pleasure from sex is in the context of a committed partnership. And I don't entirely understand why this is. It bothers me to the extent that I am jealous of him for being able to find pleasure in encounters other than our own. I get angry at him, and at myself, for what feels like a fundamental disconnect. A part of me simply does not want to connect with people other than my partner in that way. It doesn't feel safe on a base level. That is not the entirety of me, but it is a very loud, powerful part.
For some background, I was raised conservative Christian. It was a negative, fear-based environment with little encouragement for self discovery outside of religion and spirituality. Reality was painted in black and white, and the "other" was to be hated and feared if they did not conform. Of course, inconsistencies abounded, and being yelled at "Do you think God would want you to do that?" for doing some normal childish thing certainly does not help a child to grow up with a sense of confidence about their life. The imprint of my imposing, judgmental father is still powerful in my psyche at the age of 28 despite leaving religion around the age of 24.
Sex was of course a taboo subject, and thus my sexual development was wrought with ignorance, guilt, and fear. I first remember masturbating around the age of 5 or 6. I may have started earlier than that, but I remember that age vividly as one of my older brothers walked in on me while I was masturbating. I'm not sure he knew what I was doing, as I had learned how to do it with my clothes on, but the event is burned into my mind for the terror, panic, and shame it inspired in me.
When I discovered what sex was, and began to have an interest in it, the true guilt set in. My sex drive was, and still is, powerful. However, I was terrified to pursue anything, even self pleasure, for the wrath of God was a mighty force within my mind. Any time I masturbated I would feel like I was going to be damned to hell, but I could not stop myself due to the very strong desires within me. I would try to go as long as I could without doing it, miserable days turning to miserable weeks of laying on my hands at night or curling into a fetal position with my hands entwined in my hair to stop myself from doing anything that could count as sinful. Except even my mind would wander to fantasies. And any good Christian knows that even just thinking about something sinful is the same as doing it.
I was too terrified to have sex or even get in a relationship with someone because, aside from the issue of that in itself being sinful (and several other factors I will talk about in a moment), I could contract an STI, or worse, get pregnant. However, my desire to have sex was powerful. Every day, sometimes multiple times a day, it was as though my body just took control of itself and my poor, prudish psyche could do nothing to stop it. Because I was not sexually active with another, I had to turn to masturbation, despite the immense guilt I felt about it, as was the only thing that would temporarily relieve the need.
So, not only was I hating myself for masturbating, but masturbation became this lesser, ugly thing in comparison to sex. Sex, which was raised on a pedestal as the most glorious thing a person could experience (so long as it was in the confines of marriage) while simultaneously being sold as a dirty, sinful act that should not be discussed or seen.
In college I was part of a Christian fellowship that actively denounced masturbating in a very vivid fashion. We were told that, if we couldn't be trusted not to masturbate to pornography, then we should tell a friend and have them police our use of our technology. I wasn't sure what to do about myself, as my own fantasies had always interested me more than anything I could watch.
At this point in my life I had convinced myself I had a sex addiction, as I could not "control" myself not to masturbate. I wasn't about to tell anyone, however. And I tried to make do by telling myself it was ok if I masturbated to fantasies of married couples. Except that got old after a while and I found myself becoming increasingly interested in thinking about group sex. It's a terrible thing, hating one's thoughts and self for what it is, but I did. I hated that part of me and tried to purge it with prayer and self deprecation. I hated anything to do with sex and sexuality that was outside the realm of what I had been raised with--that is, outside the context of a monogamous marriage.
Essentially, my sexual development was supremely fucked up.