Time to step away
About a year ago, seemingly overnight, my sex drive came roaring back after being dormant for nearly a decade. I figured it was hormonal. I was so bowled over by this that I barely knew what to do with myself. And it was weird. There had been high libido times in my past, but this felt so different. It was far more constant, untethered from my mood, profoundly in my body. My sex drive was always use-it-or-lose-it, and this time it was practically constant and indifferent to whether or not it was in use.
I was poking at my sexuality with a stick like it was a deep sea jellyfish washed up on the beach. It’s been so long since I’ve seen one of these! Poking and prodding, dissecting and inspecting. Picking it apart and wondering, why am I like this? Why do I always want to read so much poetry when I get horny? Is it to attract men? These dudes are not that interested in poetry.
I realized early on a few things as I tried to manage this sudden spike in libido. First: orgasms didn’t always help, rather, they often made it worse. Secondly: orgasms with a partner gave the most lasting relief. Thirdly: I was not attracted to my husband.
This is a shitty situation, to put it bluntly. You basically have three options: give up partnered sex, divorce, or negotiate ethical non-monogamy. I don’t need to get into the ins-and-outs, but like any good pseudo-intellectual, I embarked on a dive into the secondary literature and primary sources. I got my library friends to pull studies on the impact of divorce on kids, I talked to divorced friends, I lurked the relevant subreddits. I also behaved like an idiot and had a rash, poorly planned conversation with my husband about opening up, and his explosive reaction made me never want to broach the topic again. I decided to double-down on my marriage, increase domestic peace, and seek sexual experiences elsewhere. People have their opinions, oh do they ever, but I was trying to look at the entire ecosystem and put my kids first. I didn’t love this situation but I could sleep at night.
The fourth realization, more like a remembering of something I once knew: if I experience orgasms with another person, I grow attached to them. I forgot how much it hurts to grow attached, experience all the fear of losing it, then deal with the pain of a breakup. Online connections still hurt brutally when they ended. I am so sensitive. I just am.
It would stress me out. The sexual activities really were excellent at times and I had forgotten how much I am a sensual, sexual creature. Flirting is intoxicating, getting to know interesting (hopefully) men is addictive. But, oh, men. You are a foreign country to me, and I don’t have a guidebook. I would grow attached, then contort myself in a usually ill-fated attempt to get them to stick around. I felt like I was wearing a corset. Sure, I felt sexy, but I couldn’t breathe. I remember never mentioning that I volunteered on the Harris campaign to one guy, cause I wasn’t quite sure he was down with women’s suffrage.
I might have had better orgasms with men (not to mention the selfish thrill of being found at least fleetingly desirable at 43) but these guys were stressing me out. I whipsawed between feeling like a total sex goddess and wondering “will a boy ever like me?” I had gone through my 30s feeling capable and confident and suddenly felt wracked with insecurity. I was constantly wondering if I was too much. I’d bare too much, too early, in the hopes that they’d see all of me and find me acceptable, except it never seemed to work, which made me wonder what was wrong with me. I cried over a lot of guys who didn’t deserve it.
Just recently I put it together that my insane libido may have an anatomical/nerve component to it and is not strictly hormonal or psychological. And you know what makes it worse? Stress! Suddenly so much makes sense. I’d be getting aroused at work as the day went on and stress ramped up. When things ended with a guy I liked, I’d be so sad and horny, which I absolutely hated. I called that being sorny. Now that I figured this out, I can feel stress tensing my pelvic area, like you notice in your shoulders.
Therefore, all these erotic adventures were causing at least as much aggravation as relief for my libido, setting aside the other hazards for my life. It’s hard to continue knowing that’s the case, so it’s back to the drawing board with me. Thankfully I’m nothing if not pragmatic and resourceful.
There have been some good things to come out of it. I feel like I got back in touch with parts of me that were dormant. I missed my sex drive! I missed pleasure and the creative aspect to it. I missed feeling desirable. But I’m smarting from this realization. I wonder if I wanted it to be part of some romantic journey of self discovery and it really stings to realize it was really just making things worse. At least I know that stepping away will probably help, and that’s worth knowing.