I changed my intimacy-averse stance.
Nov 6, 2019 12:43:33 GMT -5
DryCreek, baza, and 4 more like this
Post by Apocrypha on Nov 6, 2019 12:43:33 GMT -5
I used to be "intimacy-averse" or, "a refuser". I reformed that behavior within the relationship that I was wrecking.
I'll share a bit about my perception and behavior for the benefit of those contending with a similar situation now. Might be just unique to me, but ILIASM lacks perspective from this side of it, so I'll offer mine.
It started across a period of several years in my early/mid twenties. I lived in a dark basement apartment and suffered what I now see as depression, likely brought on by seasonal affective disorder (SAD). My previous two significant long term relationships (of a couple years each) were each profoundly unsatisfying. One was a diagnosed suicidal Borderline with narcissistic tendencies (my first sexual partner) - a cutter, whose stepfather had sexually abused her. The other, I found out only recently (from my father, no less), had been secretly an exotic dancer in a nearby city. Both constantly cheated on me, the latter of which, became pregnant in the course of that cheating, and when caught red-handed, tried to manipulate my reaction to the revelation by also claiming she had been date-raped by another would-be suitor, which had nothing to do with me or with her affair partner that I confronted her with at the time. Just giving you a sense of the flavor of manipulation I tolerated at the time from the partners I chose, and who chose me.
It was in the immediate few years following that last breakup that I got weird about sex and commitment, though at the time, I didn't see the connection. I had a Women's Studies minor at the time, and as a result of my associations - ended up dating the president of the women's centre and also, later, the director of a venerable local feminist arts theater, and sundry other one-offs with friends and fwb (before the term was coined).
Looking back, I realize that I was a fairly generous lover and got lots of compliments - which isn't bad for a 20-something year old bloke who hasn't had a lot of practice yet. I really did want to please and tried, listened, asked questions, read a lot, and paid attention. But I avoided my own orgasm in the context of sex with a partner.
I could handle it on my own - no problem. And frequently did - after, and in between.
I had a sex drive. I just had a thing about letting go to that degree with a partner. I held back.
I have tried to reconstruct my mindset from that time. What was I thinking?
I think it's that if I held something back - I felt in control of myself. A a sexual union in which I withheld something - was a sexual union not fully committed or completed. This felt like I did not have a fully invested romantic obligation toward that person. Somehow, by engaging in sexual activity that omitted some aspect of the act - such as being non-penetrative, or non-orgasmic (on my part), this felt like a moral basis for an "out". I think it was me holding one foot out the door, hedging my bet on my romantic investment.
In cases where my partner was explicit in laying out that this was FWB only - and little expectation or desire for social obligation following - I was able to let go more and commit fully.
Eventually I met the woman who would one day say "yes" to becoming Mrs Apocrypha. She was someone who was... unconventionally or low-maintenance attractive. Not my usual kind of thing. I found her attractive but I was not "smitten" and her free spirited proto-hipsterish style was not my usual "type". She was a friend first and for a long time, until she got drunk and entered my apartment, got in bed with me, and decidedly did things with me that would likely be considered a crime if I did them to anyone else today. I was sleepy, confused, turned on, and surprised - and frankly - overwhelmed - and chose to "go with it" rather than say no. Please note - I'm not blaming her her or accusing her of anything. I'm simply observing my state of mind - I could have easily said "no" and chose not to. She was a skilled and enthusiastic lover, and I enjoyed it.
Thus we entered a smouldering but never igniting FWB period that lasted several years - acting as companions and friends, in which I would sometimes allow or prompt things into a flare of passion when I wanted it enough with her. Eventually I got a job and left for a distant city. A year later she relocated there and found work, and contacted me.
During this period, she also was seeing other people . We started dating at the new city, and it was expensive to live there. She asked to move in with me. I can say I clearly was NOT READY for this, in hindsight, though I lacked the insight at the time to know this. I also was afraid I would lose her if I refused. I figured I'd rise to the challenge. On our first night together in the new apartment, I felt I had gotten in way over my head, and felt nearly paralyzed with anxiety about it all. We began maybe a year or more of an ongoing period in which I could see my intensified sexual refusal was devastating to her. It was impossible to avoid the elephant in the living room.
She did everything to try.
She followed the porn I looked at, and tried to do what was in it (even if it was just odd things I'd clicked on out of curiosity).
We discussed it often. I'd make vague resolutions and try to change the subject. I felt uncomfortable talking about it and felt emasculated, which didn't help.
She'd get frustrated and go sleep on the couch, crying, and then I felt shame. Intense shame.
We ended up fighting about a lot of issues. It annoyed me that in our late twenties (at that point) and established in our career paths, she dressed like a vagabond - for example. Which she did - and that she often looked unshowered or unkempt (she showered in the evenings and not in the mornings, so always looked slept in). She was socially awkward and often said inappropriate things among friends and family, such as commenting unthinkingly about gifts that were given to her on her birthday or Christmas by my family. Or she'd get weird around my family at events and go to obvious trouble to avoid them - shutting herself in a bedroom and napping. I looked at these real gripes as reasons to offer for explaining my apparent loss of attraction for her. Obviously, I tried to be diplomatic about it and withheld, but when answers were demanded, I would try to explain it by going over something that bothered me about her. But that wasn't it.
And I didn't start wanting sex with her. I liked it when I was in it with her, but the getting there was a problem. I was never fully "present" with her like I am today with my partners (even new partners). I almost had to shutter myself in my own fantasy or block her out. It was really dysfunctional and despite the mechanics of it all working - likely felt alienating to her as well as to me.
Eventually, I went on a corporate retreat across several days. It was the first time apart from her I'd had in a long while of steady pressure and focus on my sex problem. As with many of these types of retreats, there was a focused session on self-discovery and goals and I really considered hard where I was in my life overall and the things I wanted.
On the way home, I realized that I couldn't wait to get there.
I realized I missed her, very much, and that I was looking forward to seeing her. I realized what a good, nurturing, kind, wonderful person she was, and that she'd been there with me through a lot of difficult things, and that she - unlike my previous girlfriends - had been undyingly loyal and steadfast in expressing her attraction and affection for me the whole time. I felt like I had been intensely unfair.
I felt like I was late, late for my adult life.
I wanted to hang a picture on my bare walls. I wanted to go out with her and buy furniture, and get rid of the milk crates. I wanted the whole thing with her and only her, and I was the luckiest guy in the world. I told her this.
It was like the end of an 80's RomCom when the guy removes the nerdy girl's glasses and sees her (though frankly she was always hot in the glasses too).
I was all in. And I was.
She became - the absolute hottest thing to me. Three months later, I asked her to marry me.
(unknown to me at the time, she had been in an affair with a co-worker for a few months, and after she said yes to me, she broke up with him).
In the marriage that followed a year later, the tables turned as of the wedding day, I think. I became the refused partner, but that's a different story. Sex became an issue, but the roles completely reversed, starting small - a minor quibble on the honeymoon night about activities that were suddenly off the menu, and something said in her wedding speech that my mom picked up but that I did not.
The point here, though -- regardless of how that second chapter ended - is that it is indeed possible to turn it around and invest sexually with a person who you were previously averse to. While all the efforts she embarked on to change that about me left a mark on me ... shame, desperation, hurt, emasculation - these were all things I felt... None of them made me want to have sex with her. Nothing that she did worked.
What changed was me, on my side of it.
I invested myself into the relationship and got onboard with my long term intention. I can't explain this other than metaphorically as my "come to Jesus" moment with respect to my relationship with her. I embraced my future together with her - chose her - really chose her and dropped my imaginings of other futures - and invested in THAT one, as a way to step into my adult life and the possibilities offered by a mature, adult, fulsome relationship. The choosing made the difference, and changed the way I saw her. When that happened, suddenly my block around sex was gone, and I was all in.
I'll share a bit about my perception and behavior for the benefit of those contending with a similar situation now. Might be just unique to me, but ILIASM lacks perspective from this side of it, so I'll offer mine.
It started across a period of several years in my early/mid twenties. I lived in a dark basement apartment and suffered what I now see as depression, likely brought on by seasonal affective disorder (SAD). My previous two significant long term relationships (of a couple years each) were each profoundly unsatisfying. One was a diagnosed suicidal Borderline with narcissistic tendencies (my first sexual partner) - a cutter, whose stepfather had sexually abused her. The other, I found out only recently (from my father, no less), had been secretly an exotic dancer in a nearby city. Both constantly cheated on me, the latter of which, became pregnant in the course of that cheating, and when caught red-handed, tried to manipulate my reaction to the revelation by also claiming she had been date-raped by another would-be suitor, which had nothing to do with me or with her affair partner that I confronted her with at the time. Just giving you a sense of the flavor of manipulation I tolerated at the time from the partners I chose, and who chose me.
It was in the immediate few years following that last breakup that I got weird about sex and commitment, though at the time, I didn't see the connection. I had a Women's Studies minor at the time, and as a result of my associations - ended up dating the president of the women's centre and also, later, the director of a venerable local feminist arts theater, and sundry other one-offs with friends and fwb (before the term was coined).
Looking back, I realize that I was a fairly generous lover and got lots of compliments - which isn't bad for a 20-something year old bloke who hasn't had a lot of practice yet. I really did want to please and tried, listened, asked questions, read a lot, and paid attention. But I avoided my own orgasm in the context of sex with a partner.
I could handle it on my own - no problem. And frequently did - after, and in between.
I had a sex drive. I just had a thing about letting go to that degree with a partner. I held back.
I have tried to reconstruct my mindset from that time. What was I thinking?
I think it's that if I held something back - I felt in control of myself. A a sexual union in which I withheld something - was a sexual union not fully committed or completed. This felt like I did not have a fully invested romantic obligation toward that person. Somehow, by engaging in sexual activity that omitted some aspect of the act - such as being non-penetrative, or non-orgasmic (on my part), this felt like a moral basis for an "out". I think it was me holding one foot out the door, hedging my bet on my romantic investment.
In cases where my partner was explicit in laying out that this was FWB only - and little expectation or desire for social obligation following - I was able to let go more and commit fully.
Eventually I met the woman who would one day say "yes" to becoming Mrs Apocrypha. She was someone who was... unconventionally or low-maintenance attractive. Not my usual kind of thing. I found her attractive but I was not "smitten" and her free spirited proto-hipsterish style was not my usual "type". She was a friend first and for a long time, until she got drunk and entered my apartment, got in bed with me, and decidedly did things with me that would likely be considered a crime if I did them to anyone else today. I was sleepy, confused, turned on, and surprised - and frankly - overwhelmed - and chose to "go with it" rather than say no. Please note - I'm not blaming her her or accusing her of anything. I'm simply observing my state of mind - I could have easily said "no" and chose not to. She was a skilled and enthusiastic lover, and I enjoyed it.
Thus we entered a smouldering but never igniting FWB period that lasted several years - acting as companions and friends, in which I would sometimes allow or prompt things into a flare of passion when I wanted it enough with her. Eventually I got a job and left for a distant city. A year later she relocated there and found work, and contacted me.
During this period, she also was seeing other people . We started dating at the new city, and it was expensive to live there. She asked to move in with me. I can say I clearly was NOT READY for this, in hindsight, though I lacked the insight at the time to know this. I also was afraid I would lose her if I refused. I figured I'd rise to the challenge. On our first night together in the new apartment, I felt I had gotten in way over my head, and felt nearly paralyzed with anxiety about it all. We began maybe a year or more of an ongoing period in which I could see my intensified sexual refusal was devastating to her. It was impossible to avoid the elephant in the living room.
She did everything to try.
She followed the porn I looked at, and tried to do what was in it (even if it was just odd things I'd clicked on out of curiosity).
We discussed it often. I'd make vague resolutions and try to change the subject. I felt uncomfortable talking about it and felt emasculated, which didn't help.
She'd get frustrated and go sleep on the couch, crying, and then I felt shame. Intense shame.
We ended up fighting about a lot of issues. It annoyed me that in our late twenties (at that point) and established in our career paths, she dressed like a vagabond - for example. Which she did - and that she often looked unshowered or unkempt (she showered in the evenings and not in the mornings, so always looked slept in). She was socially awkward and often said inappropriate things among friends and family, such as commenting unthinkingly about gifts that were given to her on her birthday or Christmas by my family. Or she'd get weird around my family at events and go to obvious trouble to avoid them - shutting herself in a bedroom and napping. I looked at these real gripes as reasons to offer for explaining my apparent loss of attraction for her. Obviously, I tried to be diplomatic about it and withheld, but when answers were demanded, I would try to explain it by going over something that bothered me about her. But that wasn't it.
And I didn't start wanting sex with her. I liked it when I was in it with her, but the getting there was a problem. I was never fully "present" with her like I am today with my partners (even new partners). I almost had to shutter myself in my own fantasy or block her out. It was really dysfunctional and despite the mechanics of it all working - likely felt alienating to her as well as to me.
Eventually, I went on a corporate retreat across several days. It was the first time apart from her I'd had in a long while of steady pressure and focus on my sex problem. As with many of these types of retreats, there was a focused session on self-discovery and goals and I really considered hard where I was in my life overall and the things I wanted.
On the way home, I realized that I couldn't wait to get there.
I realized I missed her, very much, and that I was looking forward to seeing her. I realized what a good, nurturing, kind, wonderful person she was, and that she'd been there with me through a lot of difficult things, and that she - unlike my previous girlfriends - had been undyingly loyal and steadfast in expressing her attraction and affection for me the whole time. I felt like I had been intensely unfair.
I felt like I was late, late for my adult life.
I wanted to hang a picture on my bare walls. I wanted to go out with her and buy furniture, and get rid of the milk crates. I wanted the whole thing with her and only her, and I was the luckiest guy in the world. I told her this.
It was like the end of an 80's RomCom when the guy removes the nerdy girl's glasses and sees her (though frankly she was always hot in the glasses too).
I was all in. And I was.
She became - the absolute hottest thing to me. Three months later, I asked her to marry me.
(unknown to me at the time, she had been in an affair with a co-worker for a few months, and after she said yes to me, she broke up with him).
In the marriage that followed a year later, the tables turned as of the wedding day, I think. I became the refused partner, but that's a different story. Sex became an issue, but the roles completely reversed, starting small - a minor quibble on the honeymoon night about activities that were suddenly off the menu, and something said in her wedding speech that my mom picked up but that I did not.
The point here, though -- regardless of how that second chapter ended - is that it is indeed possible to turn it around and invest sexually with a person who you were previously averse to. While all the efforts she embarked on to change that about me left a mark on me ... shame, desperation, hurt, emasculation - these were all things I felt... None of them made me want to have sex with her. Nothing that she did worked.
What changed was me, on my side of it.
I invested myself into the relationship and got onboard with my long term intention. I can't explain this other than metaphorically as my "come to Jesus" moment with respect to my relationship with her. I embraced my future together with her - chose her - really chose her and dropped my imaginings of other futures - and invested in THAT one, as a way to step into my adult life and the possibilities offered by a mature, adult, fulsome relationship. The choosing made the difference, and changed the way I saw her. When that happened, suddenly my block around sex was gone, and I was all in.