Healing dream

My lover has arrived safely and is fine. I am hugging his correspondence- like a precious secret- to myself, a sunny place to bask in when it is dark. I love how he began: "Hey, gorgeous"...how often does any one say THAT to me? He thinks about me, he's planning for our reunion in a few months..."just you and me, together all night..."  He makes me crave him, just from words alone. Just thinking about him. Such a beacon of light. Still so humble, still doesn't discuss much, but lets our experiences lie between us, unspoken but magnificently potent.

I had a dream last night that healed me in yet another way. Let me backtrack first. The last time I saw him, we accomplished a "forbidden" act. One that another man I had seen before constantly fantasized about, and what I referred to as the "anal rape." My lover was determined to "cure" me of that trauma, for some reason. I don't understand the appeal, honestly. To any man. I just don't understand the appeal. Anyway, he went slowly with me, cautiously, lovingly, consciously. I went along with it because I knew he wanted to try to heal my fear, although I didn't think I could be "cured"; I was so offended by the whole past episode and have a sharp memory of the pain. But last time, he accomplished the impossible. I felt no pain, and after that, had no fear, and experienced pure pleasure. I feel as if I've been set free, the negative memory subsumed by the pleasurable one.

So, last night I dreamt that I had been set free. That I was able to let go of a man I once lusted over, for years. In the dream, this man and I were intimate, and we knew we were only interested in each other for sex. We finally admitted it out loud. I touched him and kissed his cheek and gave him over to another woman, who took him away, out of sight. I knew that they were copulating and I was quite sad, but also relieved and and felt free as a bird. I didn't need him any longer, I was no longer tethered to him like an iron anchor. I set him free, and thus, I set myself free. And while doing this, giving me the strength and courage in the background, as a mirage, as memory, was my lover. The man in the dream (who is a real person) has the same first name as my lover. I can say the name again with a smile on my face, with no sadness or melancholy.

As my therapist and certain friends have agreed, my healing and recovery seems to occur mostly on the sexual level. For whatever reason. I am sure I am not the only person who experiences recovery this way, but for now I feel I am, as I know of no one else.

Another lovers story

I must write about this to get it out of my head. I thought my lover had already deployed, but all week I've been checking in and he's still been here. Yesterday afternoon, I ended up with a free hour completely alone, such a rarity these days, so I checked in. He was there and we chatted a bit; eventually things got very heated as usual, but he then he typed "call me." What's the big deal? Well, we had set this as another limit- no phone calls. He was always very careful about not asking for too much, really, not asking for much at all, given my situation, but lately, he's been showing more of his desirous self, wanting more, not playing it quite so nonchalantly. He's never asked me to call him before, and he's never called. I just smiled to myself and picked up the phone. He waited four rings to answer, always the tease. And when I heard his voice, only maybe the fifth time in my life, I melted.

His voice is deep and commanding, controlled, and to me, very sensual. He has such power over me, sexually, and he knows it. He told me what to do and I did; I imagined him there with me and listened to his voice. He called me "lover," which I absolutely adore. It was almost as good as being with him in person, almost. At times, I would become overwhelmed, and he knew just what to do, just like when we're together. "Close your eyes, breathe with me...in....out..." We breathed together over the phone until I calmed down and the tears stopped. We both satisfied our cravings, with encouragement from the other. Afterward, I lay on my bed, he lay in his, and we just smiled into the phone in silence. Peaceful. I felt his ghostly touch...wrapping his arms around me, lacing his fingers through mine, and falling asleep together until desire woke us up again. This ritual was palpable over the phone. And it was me this time who said "I'm afraid I have to go" when my hour was up. He sounded almost regretful but understanding. "Go do what you have to do. We'll talk later." And I've been checking since, and he is not there. He said something about having to stay up all night last night...I think he's left. And if I'm correct, this is why he broached the final boundary. This was his way of saying goodbye, without saying the word.

I could be wrong. We shall see. All I know is that he's stopped asking if I have permission to see him. He never mentions my husband any more. And tells me such things, such as in this conversation:

me: ...and he still respects her in the morning?
him: of course, he respects her the entire time. she is courageous, fearless, uninhibited, willing to endure a lot in exchange for her pleasure.
me: she feels the same way...and safe to be her ***** self, no judgment.
him: never. she can explore in safety, be nurtured, be nourished by her lover...

Deploying soon

It's been insane: alone with my one-year-old who refuses to sleep at night... while trying to hold down my full-time job. That may not sound like much, but it's close to undoing me. I couldn't ever be a single mom, I simply don't see how it is possible, yet people do it every day. I absolutely adore my little imp, and she EXHAUSTS me to the limit!

My lover is deploying VERY soon, in a matter of days. To the war. Right in the middle of it. He is anxious and down, and has a "bad vibe" about it. I try to be around when my daughter is asleep (rarely!) and just take his mind off his worries. I feel quite helpless, scared myself; and there is truly nothing I can do. He's got to face his fear alone, unfortunately. As we all do in the end, I suppose.

I told him really, think about getting out when you come home. He is too good for this system. He's intelligent and cynical and independent and has almost completed his degree now, so he will have more options. He sounds so unhappy, and I know he can aim so much higher. I told him that I find intelligence incredibly sexy, so don't worry about not wearing the uniform for my sake : ) His response was that he could never see me with a "moron" no matter how good looking. So funny. I think part of the attraction for him is that I'm not the typical vapid female one meets on a sex site. I know how to read him and use it for both of our advantage : )

As for me and "morons," well, I've been there, done that, and get bored easily. I do need an intellectual equal or higher. My husband is much more intelligent than me--I wouldn't stay married were I bored for that long! My mystery Marine was quite smart--too smart, he never messed up, always remained in control, leaving me looking foolish at times.

  

We are making plans for when he comes back--I think this is probably helping him more than anything. I didn't know he had this thought: he wants to take me to a swingers club : ) He knows a place in the area (of course he does lol)- a classy, membership-only place, where membership is only open to couples and single females. I don't understand the limitation, although something tells me it's a positive sign for a place like this. It would be a real step out of my comfort zone. Although I've had dreams of things like this with him, I'd never considered actually doing it. But we're beyond fantasy now--everything is open to us to explore. And he has other intriguing ideas, as well. Never bored with him.

I feel much calmer though, knowing he is not getting bored with me and shows no sign of wanting to end. I have been able to let go of the obsession a bit-not needing to hear from him daily. He's so consistent and has been for such a long time. It's very comforting somehow, that he is so steady and dependable. Steady as a rock. Wonderfully calm in a crisis. He's going to make some lucky woman an amazing husband someday, when he gets through his determinedly stubborn bachelor stage (I'm fine with him remaining in it for a long time yet to come though!).

What he means to me...

I took down my previous post, the "introduction," because I felt uncomfortable being that revealing. I lost one follower, and I suspect that was because the person felt the post was inappropriate. And it probably was. You see, that's what happens when I get carried away! Sometimes it takes mistakes to get me back on track. I think, also, my lover was excited to learn that I was telling the world about us, and he doesn't mind sharing that kind of thing, and, of course, I wanted to please him. But, you know what--at the end of the day, this is MY blog and I am about recovery and unconventional lifestyles...but not without boundaries. So, here's a rewritten version, a bit more  poetic, that describes what my lover is to me. 

I still can't believe he wants ME. I have to shake myself sometimes to be reminded that this IS real.  I love that he works with his hands; they are so very talented. I love the rough sound of his voice and his creative mind. He's such an intriguing combination of logic and creativity, which leads to incredible experimentation during our times together--and the most intensely erotic fantasies I've ever read. The one problem we have is that we suck each other dry...We sap each others' energy (speaking for myself, I tend to get physically ill or, lately, go into shock after our meetings), so frequent meetings are not prudent. If I weren't already convinced about the power of the body's energy fields, I would be now. I did see a man's aura once during sex; that was completely different. I don't see anything with him; I FEEL the power. It overtakes me, every part of me, the moment I step into his presence. And I can feel it through his words, in emails, chats, etc. But the energy in person, that is on a whole other level of intensity.  

There's so much I want to do with him still. The list is almost endless (and repetitive!), but if I died tomorrow, I would be satisfied.

This relationship is the most physical I have ever experienced. He's taken me to the deep, dark places I couldn't even imagine before I met him. We don't speak many words when we're together, but our bodies and sounds tell the most erotic and sensual stories. I don't have to say how much I want him or how I feel when he touches me. Years of pent up longing are expressed without a word. His commands compel me to obey; they melt and thrill me. He concentrates deeply as he ties intricate knots with ropes that bind me, and simply watching him in this meditative state is enough. I allow him into places secret and forbidden and am rewarded with such pleasure. I love to touch him with the water pouring over us; in my mind, we are not in a shower, we are standing in the rain and he is slowly stripping me, enjoying each layer as it slips off my body...He moves in me, he fits perfectly, I feel him throb, the warmth and strength of his body press on mine and the divide between reality and fantasy disappears. I become another woman, the one who throbs and pulses and beats to his rhythm.  When we are skin to skin, no matter what we are attempting, I am in bliss. I open up to him like a spring flower. "All too easy," he chides, but I do not want to play hard-to-get with him; I am eager and happy to give all I have.

Amazing night...

Another amazing night. Even better, and I thought it couldn't get any better. He made me wait outside the door for so long that I went back to my car and texted him that I was about to go home. Then he said, "the door is unlocked, you know where the shower is, I will be waiting for you." The same as before: I step inside, lock the door behind me, go upstairs to the master bedroom. Quiet. Two candles, jasmine scented, burning next to the bed. I walk into the bathroom, another jasmine candle, throwing soft light into the darkness. I close the door. It's been a long day, I am relieved to have these few moments to catch my breath. I step into the shower and start to relax. The door slowly opens and I peek out of the curtain, he's there, laying out items for me to wear--his collar, the red and black stockings, stilletto heels...he passionately kisses me and leaves. I take my time, enjoying the sensual darkness, the feel of the warm water running over me, the anticipation of delights to come...

We made love many times in the afternoon, the evening, deep in the night and into the morning. It was different, so very different than before. Calmer, softer, warmer, lingering, but desire burning so hot it couldn't be stopped; my cries and growls grew to match his; our eyes locked, intensely, not letting go. We slept in each others' arms; we awoke to yearning and quenched it. I awoke at times to feel his large, strong hand wrapped around my neck, and followed his commands. All I needed was his voice in my ear and his hand wrapped around my throat...so much desire, so much need from both of us, such yearning to quench each others' passion.

Earlier in the evening, he took me out to dinner for the first time. Strange to enter the world outside his bed together...eventually, we talked and laughed and simply enjoyed each other's company. After dinner, too much desire to contain...his hand on my knee, between my legs, everywhere as we got "lost" in his car, and I was finally able to give him the pleasure he's been craving from me...

Fire like no other...

I learned something Saturday night: if you play with fire, you will eventually get burned. I don't even know where to start. Intimacy, yes; fear, yes; loss of control...I thought he was made of steel, he could keep in control of himself and any situation. I was wrong. Just because someone is a master at Tai Kwan Do doesn't mean he is the master of his desires. We are both insanely compulsive and insanely human.

We overstepped a boundary, one we had set for ourselves. I am terrified--is this it? Is it over?  I don't know anything, I can't say what's going to happen or what he's thinking.

It was a fantastically erotic 17 hours. More new explorations, and I felt so comfortable with him that I let my guard down. I should have known; I can't do that without consequences. At 9:30am he was ready for me to go. So I left. He was watching me like a hawk as he led me away from his bedroom, down the stairs, and out of his house; I don't know why.

When I arrived, he texted me. I entered his house, locked the door behind me and followed his instructions. I walked into the master bedroom where the atmosphere was just right. This was definitely different--a candle in the dark, the stars and the earth in the background on the screen...silence for a few excrutiatingly long minutes. Then, a slight creaking of the stairs. Stealthy. He entered the room in his uniform, just the way he knows I like it. And it began.

He managed to accomplish all his goals. He turned me into a quivering, crying, moaning ball on his bed all afternoon and night, begging not to be touched at the end; he relaxed me into sleep; and in the morning in a desirous haze, we breached the boundary.  Everything he had ever wanted to do with me, in these four years of waiting. What is left now? For me, desire for him is never-ending. I do not know what is in his head. I am satisfied yet longing for more; terrified of abandonment after giving him the ultimate prize...

I did not think this would happen.

Anticipation...

The time is getting close and, of course, I am sick. Just a cold, which I won’t let stop me, but I started to wonder if this wasn’t destined to be…the forecast looked to be snow on Saturday and I have a bit of a drive. But no, it will be a perfectly mild day, and I’ve only got a mild cold : ) I will be there.

I found out he will be deploying soon. I really want to see him before he goes, to leave good memories to take with him. He asked me what my favorite scent is, and this is a HUGE change. Last time, he didn’t do anything special for our meeting. He answered the door in his sweats, as if he wasn’t expecting much. He got A LOT more than he expected! But this time, like I said, he’s been making “modifications” to his bedroom, he’s been “shopping” a lot it sounds like, and he asked about scent. He’s been doing a lot of work! Something huge changed after the last meeting. He’s very wishy-washy about it; insinuating that I’m the only one…saying he’s “not going anywhere,” but at the same time reminding me not to get obsessed, that my family comes first. We argued about that one a bit—what is a single, younger guy doing telling ME how to prioritize my life!! Obvious, I have my priorities in the right place. That was overstepping the boundary. 

I’m not at all used to this. He seems perfectly content being a single bachelor, no interpersonal responsibilities. But at the same time, he does want a feminine presence in his life somehow—I asked him what our night would look like if he could choose (he never tells me what he wants), and he said he would like me to come Saturday afternoon and stay the night, leave in the morning. So I said, “granted.” This is a man who, as far as I know, does not like women to stay the night. He can’t sleep with a woman in his bed. Last time, though, he slept pretty well! I brought this up to him and he just smiled, that cocky, crooked smile…I am flattered that he can sleep next to me. Not that I want him to be sleeping at all! It was quite lovely last time, he spooned me and laced his fingers through mine, curled up tightly against me. I, of course, being an insomniac, didn’t sleep at all, but I loved that feeling of intimacy. I remember how he held my face and kissed me, told me that he loved having me there, and stood at the doorway, lifted his hand, and watch me drive away. Such a serious look on his face—the memory still sends shivers down my spine.

I wonder what it will be like this time.

PPD ten months in...

I received a comment today on emptiness and the need to use addictions to fill it. In that moment, I realized just how empty I feel, and just how hard I'm trying to fill that hole. I haven't been able to find a 12-step group since we moved here. I can't make the hour drive to see my therapist anymore, not with a baby.  And I know a baby isn't meant to fill my emptiness--I am strongly aware of that, and I keep a level of detachment in that area. Not that I am not loving and caring of my child, but I realize that I must keep my self separate and not enmesh like my father did with me. That's the reason I continue working full time, and volunteering until I am so fatigued that I can't see straight. I try to do it ALL-keep myself intact, keep my child emotionally and physically safe and it's sapping the life out of me. I am not the same person I was just ten months ago. I feel sadder, more burdened, and unfortunately, more prone to my addictive tendencies. I find myself sometimes thinking too much about my lover, unable to detach as I need to. I keep myself up at night reading and rereading his emails and stories, forgetting at times the nature of this. I get sad, angry, then try to detach out of frustration. He doesn't fall for any of it, and I end up feeling helpless and depressed at times. Then I repair myself, become consumed with my everyday life, and it starts all over again. This is called obsession, I believe.

One of the emptinesses right now is that my daughter weaned herself very recently, about perhaps two weeks ago. It was gradual and I felt I was losing her. I had come to love breastfeeding, the closeness it brought to us, the earthy womanliness I discovered in myself, and the sense of worth and self-sufficiency I had gained through the act of being able to provide sustenance for this beautiful, dependent creature; how she grew plump and healthy on my milk. And now, it's all gone. I am left with a depression and a loss that I don't know how to cope with, aside from indulging myself with fantasies. Sexual fantasies and plans for a meeting, these things keep me going now. The fact that he will appreciate my body, as changed as it is; that he still wants my breasts in his mouth, that he makes me feel sexy and gorgeous and alive, the opposite of my feeling on most days. I'm clinging to this like a life raft, and I am so sad.

Lover versus casual sex

 Is having a lover the same as having casual sex?

"No ma'am, it isn't. A lover you can relax with, explore with, ask for what you want, ask for what they want, and try everything you both want.
As a casual sex thing there isn't the time to learn the things you can with a lover. In my humble opinion anyway."
http://www.answerbag.com/q_view/761861#ixzz1aUAWJBx7

This whole relationship started out as a casual sex idea. Signed up on a sex site, put up an ad, as I've said before. We started chatting near the beginning of my tenure on this site. He never expected to meet in person, and by the time I had chosen the first and second encounters and had gone through hell, he was pretty sure we never would. I told him there was no chance; he was better off looking for another tryst. But he stuck around, we chatted for a few years, we became friends, sort of...had a lot of cybersex,  and finally out of the blue, my husband and I were ready to test the waters again. We felt we could trust him, and he was accommodating in every way. We met for the first time on my 40th birthday, and the explosive energy was immediate and overwhelming. I thought that would be it, sadly, really sadly. I cried for weeks afterward. Two years later, though, we have not only kept in touch and but he also rode out my pregnancy with me in a supportive, yet erotic way.  And now, we are lovers, in the above definition of the word, and our hope is to be this to each other for quite a while. I pray this will be the case. Oh women, to have a lover who appreciates a pregnant body is such a blessing. And afterward, even more so. This is a blessing I would wish on any woman who wants it.

I've always wanted to read Lady Chatterley's Lover. Perhaps now is the perfect time. 

I've discovered a new site called "The Experience Project," in which one can talk about any kind of experience they want or have had. I have only looked it over, but it seems to be an honest, open place. Join me there if you like (liliacspring). www.experienceproject.com

Boundaries and Sexual Behavior

"If your boundaries have always been violated, then it is unfair to expect yourself to be able to set them all of a sudden. You don’t become assertive and powerful just because you grow up and leave home. No matter what age you are, no matter what relationship you have with the abuser, if someone with more power is pressuring you into a sexual relationship, then you are being abused."

— The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse by Ellen Bass & Laura Davis 

There are many aspects to the topic of boundaries, and I have found that, at least for me, the relationship between sexual behavior and boundaries has been very confusing. Where does one begin and the other end? Where is the safety limit? Where is the comfort zone? What is appropriate behavior toward someone and from someone toward me? I never really explored these questions in depth until I was in my 30s. In my early 20s, I became obsessed by the power and drug-like effect of sexual activity and I chased it from one continent to another. I was just beginning to explore PASSION when the object of my passion was torn away--separated by distance. I tried to let it go, to tolerate the loss, but I simply couldn't. I chased this obsession to Europe, where my only thought was to be in bed beside my lover again. I had other reasons for leaving of course, the largest being a father who was chasing ME with his attention and anxiety and guilt and would give no respite, which was the catalyst for the whole episode, but on par with that was a desperate, obsessive drive for sex that blinded me. This was my first sexual experience, and it was heady. It was something that took me out of myself in very good way; something that made me fly, something where I became another person in another world, something in which my natural instincts of sensitivity and intensity and feeling were rewarded!!!! 

This episode had to end of course, and it was from a manipulation of my fears by my father over a long distance, that I came crashing to earth. Afterwards, my exuberance over sexuality buried its head in the sand for over 20 years. You know the history. 

When I experienced my "awakening" in my mid-30s, I was not in a safe situation, and boundaries should have been my first priority. But not knowing such a thing existed, I was bound for trouble. 

The first boundary I should have considered was my physical safety. And I don't mean STDs (at the moment). I am talking about meeting strange men in strange places. Going to their homes. Meeting in deserted areas. I did not consider any consequences of these behaviors.  I think, now, a person with boundaries and self-respect would have insisted on choosing locations herself and taken some control of the situation. I let them control EVERYTHING, believing this was just how it should be.  I also had no way to ensure that these men were "safe" people at all-just their word. It shouldn't have been enough. Any healthy individual would have considered that beforehand.

The second boundary that I didn't think about was the sexual activities themselves. I had expressed my desires and what I didn't like during online chats, but I never explicitly stated limits. Even in person, I didn't express limits. I let anything go, and pretended to like it. I never had thought deeply about some of these sexual actions I was getting into; had I considered some of the realities and what I truly felt about them, (and understood limitations of course), things would have been different. I was desperately seeking the mental and physical fulfillment of my initial experience, but many of these encounters left me cold. Even in this, I felt I had to please. I didn't realize I had a right to say no to something I was uncomfortable with. Then, of course, was the STD issue. I did know enough to use protection, but I didn't realize other dangers of other activities. And I trusted that when these men said they were free of disease, they were being honest. I think anyone with boundaries (and self-respect) in these situations would have requested proof.

I didn't realize, either, that I could keep my personal life to myself. I gave myself away at every opportunity. One of these men wouldn't even tell me his name, but I unthinkingly gave up my entire identity, and he immediately did a web search on me. I spoke about personal issues at the beginning; I blurred the lines between intimacy and sexual encounter. I simply gave up too much information. I felt I had become part of their worlds and wanted to fit in accordingly. My grave mistake, and my lack of boundaries. 

All of this also begs the sticky question that has been around for some time: when one consensually engages in sexual activity, is that person entitled to boundaries and limits? If one allows an activity to begin, which had been something discussed between the two online, but ends up feeling like an invasion, does the term "boundary" even apply? When one meets up with another through an engagement previously made through a SEX SITE, how much right to limits does one have???  Perhaps it is my personal difficulty with boundaries (and tendency to assume guilt) that causes me to ask this question. I experienced one instance of what my therapist called "rape" but to me, felt like I deserved it and brought it on by discussing it during an online chat.  To this day, I do not truly know what to think about this issue.

I'm sure there is more I could write about, but this is enough information for one day.  I hope what I write here has been able to help.

...then there's me.

The effects of covert incest, continued. I have a hard time making and keeping female friends. Many times, I begin to feel they're "winning out" over me--that I'm losing in the competition for male attention. My self-esteem, especially in the physical realm, couldn't be lower. As Brad Paisley sings: 

There's two feet of topsoil
A little bit of bedrock, limestone in between
A fossilized dinosaur
A little patch of crude oil
A thousand feet of granite underneath
Then there's me

Sounds funny, eh? Well, I can't go to the mall without running home in tears because I am not as thin, young, blond (well, I'm dark haired, so that's always an issue), sexy...as these other girls. Never mind that I'm 41 and I'm not supposed to be!...I feel that other women exist to make me feel bad about myself. Especially strangers. If I get to know a woman very well, and we have a connection, then I thrive, but that doesn't happen often. Twice in my life--in ACOA and during the psychodrama workshops. And maybe that's because I could see the hurting human inside of the woman in these cases. 

I almost feel as if every female of male-attracting age is my dad's wife. That's exactly how it feels. There to steal something sick away from me. It's so hugely messed up, isn't it? I'm constantly fighting to get it back.

And this is why I got such a boost from all the male attention on the sex site. Think about it: if you got 100+ replies from men wanting to "meet" you, what hole do you think that would fill??? Even if you never intended to do anything about it, it would still be potent (and most women on that site didn't do anything; I was probably one of the few who followed through--at least that's what I was frequently told). Having one man who adores you and has committed to you for life just isn't good enough for victims of covert incest (by their fathers at least)! You are just not convinced that you are good enough for the rest of the world, if "only" one person loves you! What insane thinking!! To me, having this attention was like having air to breathe and water to drink. I felt nothing without it; it didn't matter WHAT my husband thought about me; I couldn't hear his compliments. I needed strange men who (and I'll be bluntly honest here) got stiff cocks when they thought of me in order to feel "worthy." Like I said before, I am dysfunctional, but at least I know it.

My obsession got to the point where I contemplated leaving my husband so I could indulge in this addiction full time. Really scary. I remember the urge; it was nearly impossible to contain. Somehow, I allowed common sense to ground me, and I don't remember how. It's like amnesia now.

But we did get off the site after about a year. There were a couple of men I was still in contact with, but I hadn't met in person for a long time. It all seemed to simmer down. Until I got pregnant. The entire self-hatred, self-rage, worthless crap came back with a vengance then. I felt terrible; I was gaining weight like crazy, my body was changing and I was terrified that I was lost. I was flailing in quicksand.

So, I went on craigslist. You can probably guess what happened next.

This was the scariest encounter. A complete stranger, who knew I was pregnant, who knew who I was, where I worked, but who wouldn't reveal his identity.  We just happened to work in the same institution, and he found my work phone number, and started calling me anonymously, teasing me about how he was going to walk into my office and I wouldn't know who he was...this was a married man, about my age. I was in a constant state of excitement and anxiety, waiting, wondering. He once told me he was outside my building, but decided not to come in. This was too much. I think this is called "rock bottom." I hated going to work then--my hormones were a wreck in the first place and I started getting anxiety attacks. I would run out of the building during these attacks, crying, feeling haunted, ashamed, tormented. He texted me one evening, asking me to meet him right now. I did. I met him behind a swimming pool, in back of an isolated apartment complex. I realized as I parked there, that this could be it. I could be murdered or raped. The thought that I wouldn't mind dying flitted through my mind as I stepped out of my car. I was afraid that I was bringing a baby into a terrible world, that I couldn't cope, and I was open to it being the end of us. (I know, it really is horrible. It really is. I know this.)

I was definitely being protected by a higher power because this man was a good man, I found out, despite his cheating nature. He wouldn't have harmed me. He was military and was very polite and gentle. Even a little romantic.

The fact that I could do this, knowing about his wife, illustrates how I felt about other women being my competition for attention. I felt bad, yes, but my obsession was driving me. To be able to attract a married man, that should prove my worth! So went my dysfunctional thinking. Luckily for me (I now believe), I never saw him after that. He began to draw away and I finally cut contact. And that was that. I still wonder if I see him during the week, and I suspect he probably has a bit of professional interest in what I'm doing. But there hasn't been any contact.

This is the story I can't tell in person. But on the web, it seems okay to share it, if only what I've done helps someone else.

For more information about the sexual addiction process, see  Sex Addiction Cycle (credit for the diagram above to this site).