I'm not feeling so good today. For one, I'm starting to get really sick feeling (yes, because of the smoking, I'm sure). For two, I spent all last night sexually acting out. I think the two are connected: when I'm sick I just want to feel better, right now. Acting out, though damaging in the long run, does relieve pain in the immediate sense.
Luckily, I didn't choose to have sex with other people, so there was no risk of infecting myself or infecting other people (I found out that I probably have Hep B the other day). Also, no risk of an emotional scene, or of associating myself with someone who's crazy and obsessive. No, what I did was just jerk off a couple of times. That wasn't so bad. The bad part was that after I had jerked off, I still couldn't keep my mind off of sex. I started to create a very long and involved fantasy. Because I couldn't get off, there was no cue to end the fantasizing, so it just got longer and longer, and more and more detailed. Finally, I decided that I should just write it down.
Well, for the next five hours I did just that: I wrote about 30 pages in a spiral bound notebook, all the while stimulating myself manually. Basically, my whole world became that fantasy. My hand hurt, and I was really tired, but I felt like I needed to get to the end of the story (I do this same thing when I'm reading), so I stayed up way too late, 'till I started to feel crazy with sleep deprivation combined with rampant sexual stimulation.
I read it after I finished it, and it sucked. There were a few good passages, but overall it was really disappointing. It was badly written, of course (it's not so easy to think clearly with your dick in your hand), but worse than that was how little of a turn-on it was. It was boring, as a matter of fact. I couldn't get off on it. The power that the scenes held for me in my mind was totally lost on the page. I passed out discouraged, with a sense of failure.
All that was okay. The absolute worst part, now that I've spent hours upon hours thinking about this one fantasy, and probably dreaming about it too on some level, is that I can't look at a guy now without automatically incorporating him into my fantasy world, without picturing what he'd be like in that situation, how he would act, what role he would play.
This is one of the worst parts of my sexual addiction: I can't talk to someone without sexualizing them. I can't see them as human, with interesting personalities and value beyond their sexual potential. Everyone is reduced to an object, and my only interest in them is focused on their dicks, their asses, and their mouths. This really gets in the way of me forming meaningful friendships with other men (and women too, because if they hold no sexual potential, why should I pay any attention to them?). I become very isolated then, having no emotional or psychological connection to others.
I don't want this to happen me. I wish I knew how to stop it.
Luckily, I didn't choose to have sex with other people, so there was no risk of infecting myself or infecting other people (I found out that I probably have Hep B the other day). Also, no risk of an emotional scene, or of associating myself with someone who's crazy and obsessive. No, what I did was just jerk off a couple of times. That wasn't so bad. The bad part was that after I had jerked off, I still couldn't keep my mind off of sex. I started to create a very long and involved fantasy. Because I couldn't get off, there was no cue to end the fantasizing, so it just got longer and longer, and more and more detailed. Finally, I decided that I should just write it down.
Well, for the next five hours I did just that: I wrote about 30 pages in a spiral bound notebook, all the while stimulating myself manually. Basically, my whole world became that fantasy. My hand hurt, and I was really tired, but I felt like I needed to get to the end of the story (I do this same thing when I'm reading), so I stayed up way too late, 'till I started to feel crazy with sleep deprivation combined with rampant sexual stimulation.
I read it after I finished it, and it sucked. There were a few good passages, but overall it was really disappointing. It was badly written, of course (it's not so easy to think clearly with your dick in your hand), but worse than that was how little of a turn-on it was. It was boring, as a matter of fact. I couldn't get off on it. The power that the scenes held for me in my mind was totally lost on the page. I passed out discouraged, with a sense of failure.
All that was okay. The absolute worst part, now that I've spent hours upon hours thinking about this one fantasy, and probably dreaming about it too on some level, is that I can't look at a guy now without automatically incorporating him into my fantasy world, without picturing what he'd be like in that situation, how he would act, what role he would play.
This is one of the worst parts of my sexual addiction: I can't talk to someone without sexualizing them. I can't see them as human, with interesting personalities and value beyond their sexual potential. Everyone is reduced to an object, and my only interest in them is focused on their dicks, their asses, and their mouths. This really gets in the way of me forming meaningful friendships with other men (and women too, because if they hold no sexual potential, why should I pay any attention to them?). I become very isolated then, having no emotional or psychological connection to others.
I don't want this to happen me. I wish I knew how to stop it.
posted by nearfalse | 10:40 AM
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