alltheavenueslookugly

as a fair warning to those who know me in real life – i am about to get extremely personal.very very very personal. this post is going to not only talk about when i lost my virginity but also delve into an explanation of what i am like in the bedroom. i forgive you if this becomes the one post you don’t want to read. this is actually the one post i didn’t really want to write. but in the interest of complete honesty, and also the fact that at this moment i have zero pride left…well, it just seemed appropriate.
if you don’t want to know that much about me, then you should stop reading now.

one of the absolute worst parts about this illness – or the medications – or both, is the very real possibility of sexual dysfunction. for me, this has never been a possibility. it’s been my reality.
the dysfunction shows itself in a few different ways, and they are all equally damaging to not only what little bit of confidence i might have left, but also to any relationship i have ever been in.

dysfunctions that i experience when it comes to being with somebody else usually include one, or two, or even all of these: inability to orgasm, inability to have or maintain an erection, and low – possibly dead – sex drive.

i love sex. i’m not just a human being, but i am a guy. i lost my virginity at either a young or normal age (depending on how you view it.) i was fifteen years old, and the woman i was with was in her mid to late twenties. she was a friend of my co-worker and she didn’t know she was my first – although i’m certain at some point in my awkward exploration of her body she put it together.

from that experience on, with only a few exceptions, it’s never been close to normal. i don’t have any odd fetishes or anything – though i have tried quite a bit of different things. but when i speak of ‘normal’ i refer more to the way that a guy usually gets an erection, puts said erection into woman, and at some point minutes or hours later is able to orgasm. seems pretty simple.

but it isn’t.

sometimes i think that in order to make up for everything else that is wrong with me, that i should be rewarded with some kind of amazing sexual super abilities. it would be nice to at least have that going for me. but no. apparently for some of us, a disorder just isn’t a disorder until it affects every last bit of us.

a couple of my doctors have pointed to the fact that i was heavily medicated at such a young age, and on some of those medications – particularly the SSRI’s – you run the risk of having long-term side effects. even after you’ve stopped taking them. this was never explained to me at the time. unfortunately there are no real tests or studies done on this as trying to put together a group of subjects for such a test would be almost impossible. all we have is a bunch of people who were medicated as children who are adults now with afflictions that can ruin their relationships.

at points in my life – mainly my early twenties – i have been on medication that cremated my sex drive. i would be lying in bed and suddenly realize that i hadn’t masturbated in weeks. that wasn’t right. so i would try. and try. and finally after a couple of hours of desperately trying to just have that moment, i would give up. i would pull out every fantasy that i had stored up, i would watch everything from pornography to the food network just in case i had become strangely attracted to cake recipes and summer salads. nothing. even if my cock relented and stood up for a pity erection, it would be gone in just a couple of minutes. i would imagine the most sexy things i could imagine. nothing worked. eventually i got off that medicine and found myself getting aroused at everything from cell phone commercials to infomercials about samurai swords.

and that wouldn’t last long. soon after my sex drive would be right back where it should have been for a guy my age.

but then when it came time to being intimate with somebody, fucking failures. (yes, i meant it that way.)

most times i was able to achieve an erection and even keep it up for a while. and my partners seemed to appreciate that. to a point. eventually, after they had long passed the point of being pleased and were just hanging in there for me, i would just stop. i knew it wasn’t going to happen, and the longer it took, the more pressure i felt, and when that kicks in you might as well just pack it up and call it a day. i could feel myself getting so close to the point of release, and then nothing. i used to think this was fine, and as long as they were satisfied i could deal with myself not getting off, but as i got older i began to see that most of them were upset afterward. they were upset because they thought they weren’t good. that they were doing something wrong. that they weren’t attractive to me. and they were wrong. nothing could be further from truth because aside from the fact that i couldn’t ‘finish,’ i always loved it. i was able to feel everything and could enjoy it on so many levels. but i can understand how they felt. and no amount of me telling them otherwise was going to change their mind. so now, not only was i horribly embarrassed and vulnerable, but now i felt guilty. i didn’t want them blaming themselves but there was nothing i could do. i speak in the past tense, but it still goes like that today. i am on medications that do have sexual side-effects, but try explaining that to a new boyfriend/girlfriend. kind of uncomfortable. and even if i try my hardest to be so honest about them with it they still can’t help but take it personally. and once again, i don’t blame them. i can’t blame them.

but i can blame myself – even though i know I shouldn’t be.

i have seen groups out there on the internet that are made up of SSRI survivors, and they all have sexual dysfunction in common. men and women.  it’s just a little reassuring to know i am not the only one. but it doesn’t make it much better.

am going to see my new doctor on monday. i want to tell him that i want to be able to get a goddamn erection and be able to cum. if that means i have to swallow a pill the size of my fist everyday i will do it happily, because this bullshit adds just another layer of not awesome to everything else. i have tried so many things that i have read as far as potential ‘cures’ or even ways to be able to enjoy the experience for what it is. but i fear that this aspect won’t be able to be repaired.

i know sex is not the most important thing in a relationship. believe me. i know.

but it definitely is a thing, and something i wish i could just experience the way i know others able to. i would love so much to be able to have just one thing that could be somewhat normal about me.

to all the guys reading this – please be careful when it comes to the medications you might take. grill the doctor on just how much it could eventually cause irreversible side-effects and seriously think about if that particular medication is worth it. if you already suffer from this, please know that i know exactly how bad it fucking sucks. nothing breaks my heart more than seeing my partner’s face when this happens for the first time or fifteenth time.

to the women reading this – i know it is difficult. you are human, and for it to appear that your man isn’t physically aroused or able to orgasm…it has to be difficult to see that. just know that it sometimes it really isn’t you and sometimes the person you are with might think you are the most beautiful person he has ever seen. sometimes he will feel like you connect on so many levels and for him to not be able to express himself sexually absolutely kills him.

and yes, this post is very relevant right now. it is almost 2:30 in the morning but i couldn’t go to bed until i got this out. i’ve wanted to write about this for a long time, but out of respect for other people and other circumstances…i just didn’t feel comfortable. i still don’t feel entirely comfortable, but fuck it. it’s part of the illness. it matters.

and i still just feel like shit about it.

thanks for letting me cry this out in words.

~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2012/11/30.

Posted in november02
Tags: depression, hating self, sex