I will start by pointing out that my promiscuity in general can be explained/defined by more than just this criterion. I think the reason for its severity is because it is caused by so many factors. I’ll list some of them, but this is not an exhaustive list:
- Abandonment issues (criteria 1)
- Craving inappropriate attention, excitement
- Crisis – especially triggered by boredom phases, abandonment and many other emotional triggers (criteria 6)
- Feeling unworthy, unwanted and general low-self esteem that makes any level of attention so much more than it may really be (criteria 2)
- Self-harm (criteria 5)
- Lack of Identity (criteria 3)
- Filling the ever-present feeling of emptiness (criteria 7)
I’d like to follow a tangent for just a moment and point out that, although I am the one that is mentally and emotionally unstable, I have had more guys tell me they love me first than the other way around. And it’s usually crazy shit, too. Like I sleep with someone and they love me the next morning or even during. It’s seriously retarded. Like, you’ve known me for like 12 hours...you don’t love me. But whatever, end of tangent.
Moving on...After that guy, being “in a relationship” became much more of a metaphysical thing for me. I mean, I had Steven who lived in Wisconsin and who I traded naughty pictures with and had phone sex with when I was feeling lonely or needy or sometimes just bored. And in my head he didn’t count as cheating (although if someone else was doing the same thing, I would have hit the roof.) After that one guy came a lot of semi-dating. Steven came down to meet (aka: sleep with) me. After that, I kind of started dating a guy I was working at the office supply place with. By dating I mean we made out in his car a lot and he came over twice when Andrea wasn’t home and we had sex. On the floor and in her bed (which is still funny to me). After that I kind of only hung out with him occasionally because, as per usual, I was getting tired of him. Steven came down again and I slept with him. Then I ended it with the other guy (whose heart I also “broke”) and kind of dated Steven and, except for the fact that he lived 800 miles away and was about to deploy to Iraq, it was good. I stayed faithful to him completely (ironically) and that went well. Oh wait, except for the fact that he was cheating on me at every turn and I kept finding Myspace messages, emails, texts, etc... showing me what was going on. I guess I deserved it, though. Maybe that’s why he’s the one I clung to so hard. Because I thought that if I was good enough I could keep him and he would be only for me. So in December when he proposed after 4 months of knowing each other on anything more than a long-distance level, I accepted. I was faithful to him all his time leading up to and while he was in Iraq (including the time before I was/knew I was pregnant.) And then he got home and all hell broke loose since he had had a couple of relationships over there and one thing after another that I was pretty much just sick of it. So that’s when I really went on the “sex binge” as I like to call it.
When Steven and I got married, I had slept with seven people. At this point, I have slept with fifteen, and I am just recently separated and not even divorced yet. After the cheating thing with Steven, we separated and I think that is where my borderline self really took control. I went on a road trip with Andrea to visit her boyfriend who lived a few states away and slept with his roommate. Really just because. Even though he literally said that “bigger girls” weren’t his type and hurt my feelings constantly and was really just a super jerky person in general, I did it and finally felt at least a little bit wanted. A few times after that he came into my area for work and we met up, but that’s all that ever was. After him was a guy from work who originally paid me and that was a nice feeling. That I was worth actual money that could be used to buy Seth diapers and pay rent. After the first few times, though, we started seeing each other fairly regularly. He, also, was a jerk. And when Steven begged me to take him back, I did. And subsequently I broke it off with the guy. Steven was rarely in town, though, and when he was, we were having a lot of problems concerning sex. So when that guy asked me to meet him later on, I did. And it became a thing that occasionally he would text me and we would meet in a parking lot or (very rarely) go to his (and his parents’) house (when no one was home, of course). I pretty much felt obligated and he made me feel like crap when I didn’t meet up with him. So, as much as I hate to admit it, that was going on as recently as the beginning of this year. We didn’t have sex, though. I would give him a blowjob and he would make me feel like I was amazing, a goddess even, for being able to make him feel like that with my mouth. So even though I hated it and it was degrading and made me feel so used it was unreal, a little part of me loved it.
So after that there was sort of a parade of guys. Somewhere soon after that guy I got put in the psych ward for a weekend and had to go to daily psych classes for like two weeks, and that helped for a minute. But then I just could see more and more how much Steven really didn’t care and my anger just grew and grew and the only way to feel like I was worth something was having someone want me. So I had a one-night stand with a disgusting guy and had flings with a few more, but nothing really filled me up like it was supposed to. Most of the time, I just wanted the feeling of someone wanting to have sex with me and didn’t actually want the sex. But by that point I felt guilty and let them do it anyway because, as Rizzo says, “that’s the worst thing a girl could do.” So I decided I was going to try to be I my marriage and do what I was supposed to do, and for the most part I did. I mean, I slipped up a few times and may have said more in a text than was appropriate, but that was the extent of it.
But the cold hard truth of it was that I wasn’t getting what I needed from Steven, and he wasn’t willing to do anything to make it happen. So I found someone else (we already know this one) and kind of clung to him throughout the whole filing for divorce thing. And I had told myself that it was a special thing so I wasn’t going to sleep with him right away because I wanted him to respect me and think better of me than that. But I forgot all those reasons when the time came and he asked why I wouldn’t. So I did and it was amazing and ohmygosh. But of course, it didn’t last either. I thought we were actually in a relationship and he had only ever been with one person and it was fine. But now I’m positive for HSV because I’m a whore and sleep around and so was his ex and he just got caught in the middle of two whores. And I guess that means that my sexual promiscuity should end here and I hope it does but I have terrible judgment especially in the moment. And right now we are still sleeping together despite him making it perfectly clear that we are not going to be together. Which I have weirdly accepted. But I am just scared for the next page I guess because I don’t know really where to go from here or what to do.
I know that the promiscuity has always been about that rush. Sleeping with someone the first few times, that feeling of passion and heat and just wanton need is what keeps me going. It’s what gives me light when all I have is darkness. When I get to the point where I don’t have that feeling of being wanted or needed at all, I feel unnecessary. It’s at that point that I get suicidal. So really, being a whore has kept me from killing myself. I don’t know what’s worse, though, being dead or being a whore. /sigh
*For the purposes of this blog, we will be considering the guy I lost my virginity to as my first boyfriend and counting from there. I had many many more boyfriends before him, but since we didn't do so much as "french kiss," I won't be counting them. Also since I couldn't count how many of those there were if I wanted to. :p