Let's call the love of my life D. When D and I started our relationship, it was fiery. We were constantly talking to each other, always on each other's minds... and our sexual desire for each other was insatiable. Before D, I'd been with someone whose libido was lower than mine--which ultimately lowered my self-esteem since I blamed myself for it, and before that, I was with someone with whom sex was just not enjoyable--let's just say he wanted it, and I didn't, but I was young and naive and straight out of an all-girls Catholic high school and was afraid to say no.
Before D, I hated my body. Though I am no longer religious, I grew up Catholic, and as such associated hatred and sin and disgust with sex... and whenever I wanted it, I felt sick and disgusted. Whenever I was having it, I removed myself from the situation. I convinced myself that sex was just sex... I didn't have to be there for it. It wasn't intimate, it didn't have to be. Whenever I wanted it but couldn't have it, I convinced myself that there'd be no one who'd want someone like me anyway... so I should just forget about it.
D changed all that.
At first, I didn't quite want it. I resisted, I desperately said no while he whispered into my neck, and while a fire was burning inside me. He seduced me. Slowly, patiently, gently... in a way that made me feel wanted, but somehow not dirty. He made me feel... beautiful. He wanted to make me feel good. He made me feel good. He made me orgasm. He said he wanted me... and he wanted only me. I gave into him, and made the conscious decision of opening myself up completely to him. He already had my heart and my mind by then, I decided to give him my body and be okay with it. I wasn't ugly or disgusting, I couldn't be... if someone as wonderful as him could want and love me the way he says he does.
And, boy, did he want me. There was much making love... and there was much sex. In the office, in hotel rooms, at his place, at mine... in ways, and with sensations I didn't think I would ever be allowed or deserve to feel. And I made him feel good, too. I'd never enjoyed making someone feel good as much as I enjoy making him feel good. I love the way he tastes. I even yearn for it. I didn't think such a thing was possible! But, there it is.
But, there was something that wasn't quite right. He loves me and though he has never once thought that sex with me was dirty, the fact that it was happening between us, unmarried, was eating away at him. As someone who had grown up religious, I understood and sympathized with him... I knew what the guilt was like--the conflict between what you "think" is right, versus what just "feels" right. He felt "further away from God" whenever we did it, and because I loved him... and because I wanted him to know that if this was important to him, and even though I didn't agree with his reasons, I'd respect that and wait.
Heck, before D, I was with my previous partner for three years, and sex was not primarily on the agenda... I thought I'd survive. I was good at not wanting sex. Our intimacy hasn't changed, really. We still cuddle up on the couch. We don't make out quite as much anymore, and he no longer stays the night (it's inappropriate, and basically challenging temptation)... but, as it turns out, I want him. I want him so much, and it's killing me that holding back is easier for him than it is for me.
Every time he can tell I want him, and he knows me too well... a look in my eyes, and he can tell; a change in the way I move against him... he can say no, while I can't. It drives me mad. And, it's making me revert back to my old thought patterns: I mean, if it really is this easy for him not to have sex, did he really want me after all? How about that time he said he'd make love to me three times a day if he could? Will I still be able to have that when... when we get married? Is there something wrong with me? I just... want him to touch me... I want to touch him... but I can't. I mustn't.
And getting married... while I am right now certain he is the man I would love to spend my life with, a part of me still hesitates at the thought of getting married early. I've always had it in my mind that I wouldn't marry someone until I've been with that person for at least two or three years. I know Christians tend to marry early, and if he asks me to marry him... which I have a feeling he might do in the next six months (we've only been dating for half a year), I'm afraid it'll be because he's rushing so we can have sex. I don't know. I feel... lost and extremely sexually frustrated.
He doesn't like the idea of me masturbating or looking at porn... I think he kind of considers it cheating. He says he doesn't masturbate at all... and considering who he is, I'm inclined to believe him. I have to admit that, well, I do. But it's never satisfying... and when I do, I feel like I'm only doing it to shut my body up. And, I am wracked with guilt every time I do.
I'm not sure what I'm looking for by posting this here... I guess just starting a conversation. I'm not really looking for advice, as such. But your thoughts, and your experiences... someone to relate with? In a strange way, the decrease in physical intimacy has left me feeling lonely... I can't help but resent myself for it. Sex isn't that important, or it shouldn't be... it never was, but somehow it has become so.
I'm happy with him, and 90% of the time, I'm not hating on myself... but bitterness and anger are terrible things, and I'm starting to feel them seething. And believe me, I know it was my grave I decided to dig. Gah. I don't know.
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