Being used is sexier in stories than real life
I wanted to prove I could have sex
I wanted to prove I could have sex without building years of trust. This was my motive, to find men and have them use me.
The plan worked a little too well. But in it, I realized I didn’t need sex to realize my worth.
My language of love is sex. I’m not like most who can have affection, though I think as the years have gone on, this has changed. I went through a relationship where it was sexless for five years. My body shut down this time, and they told me I wasn’t attractive at my new weight. And so I took this on as my own.
“Your chin is so bony.”
I’d position my chin on his shoulder, trying to cuddle. Every inch of my body was bony. My hair made him itchy as if he was allergic to it and my scent. I had to make sure I was scentless in life. Each comment, each jab at my personality, such as I never had any friends in my life. I took on as my own. He told me I would never feel loved and that I was incapable of it, which became my mantra. I was flammable as a human being. So, I prepared to have sex without emotions, without attachment, but I still was kind to the person I was with. The men I was with didn’t share that kindness.
