Celibate Suicide

The first time I tried to kill myself was when I was eleven.  My father was the only person I had in the world, and he had died in spring.  I went to the school for advanced kids and we did a great deal of independent reading.  I’d learned about hypothermia.  I waited until a very cold winter day with feet upon feet of snow.  I put on my turquoise fur coat, which was the nicest thing I had.  I knew it would also make it look like an accident.  I chose a perfect time at night and laid out in the snow.

Needless to say, it didn’t work.

Both of my parents were abusive in different ways.  They’d also both been into hard drugs, which didn’t interest me.  I wanted to keep my sanity above all else.  I never had close friends, but I eventually got a boyfriend.  From the ages of 15 – 21, my impossible sadness was quelled by the enjoyment of sex.

When I turned 21, my boyfriend and I broke up.  We didn’t have anything in common anymore, but I would have stayed with him forever if I’d known I would be celibate.  Zoom ahead.  I’m 28, I’m almost completely celibate, and this has been the case for seven years.

It’s not looks, brains, motivation, or humor.  I have all of those.  People think I’ve had a nosejob and a boobjob.  People try to guess my ethnicity because I look like a country that doesn’t exist.  I have two degrees and steady, if not exciting, job prospects.  I keep people laughing all day.  I’m optimistic and always moving forward.

When I was 21, I got a new boyfriend.  He was a virgin and he enjoyed experimenting with all the things he’d seen in porn.  He wasn’t that interested in me, and he’d tell me a variety of reasons: I was too fat, no hips, no butt, belly too big, ugly hands, don’t wear heels, don’t dress sexy enough, don’t wear lingerie, need to wear makeup the way my sister does, need shorter hair, wear too much makeup, wear too little makeup, dress for ‘my mother’ (too modest).  He said I was a sick sex addict and that I should masturbate; then he’d mock me for masturbating.  He’d tell me to go out and sleep with other people because it wasn’t going to happen with him; then he’d change his mind the next week.  Eventually he decided that I needed to just be celibate like him.  We got married for a couple months at the end of our relationship.  We got divorced; it was never consummated.  I stopped attempting suicide, drinking to excess, and weaned off my extreme combo of prescriptions.  My family didn’t want me back after I got divorced, and my mom blames it on my ‘sex addiction’.

I got a new boyfriend.  I adore him in so many ways.  He was a heroin addict for many years, and was then on methadone for many years.  The methadone made him gain 100 lbs in a year.     When you wean down to 70 mg of methadone, it’s supposed to restore your lost sex drive, which is lost with time on methadone.  It never happened.  He’s been off the methadone completely for months.  We’ve been together over a year.  I need sex everyday.

We were supposed to move back to his hometown when I graduated, after paying off some debts.  But we still can’t have sex, and he won’t be sensual with me or help me masturbate.  I went and bought a new sex toy to replace my broken one tonight, but I was still in tears after using it.

I am not the person who can have casual sex.  My attachment style is “Broken”.  I have nobody in my life that I am close to except for a significant other.  If I had sex with someone, I’d quickly have feelings for them.  This is why I choose new boyfriends from the internet, so I don’t think with my crotch.   I know this about myself, and I also value fidelity and monogamy, so I don’t have sex with anyone at all.  I need a reason to look into the future.  The truth is, I’ll never believe any guy who says I’m beautiful but won’t prove it.  Not after my ex-husband.  And not after years of being ignored by guy friends and people in bars – they like feminine blondes.  Which is fine with me.  I just need one person who will have sex with me every day because they want to, not because they’re being forced.  Someone brilliant, like my boyfriend.  I want to keep him and my life.  But if this is what my life is going to be like in the future, I’m not going into that future.  If I’d known at 21 that it was over, I would have choked down my feelings and forced myself to have filthy bar sex.  If I’d known at 25 that my marriage wouldn’t be consummated, I wouldn’t have said yes.  If I’d known at 27 that divorce wouldn’t free me from this burden, I may not have done it.