This isn’t going to be a post about how much “better” I am than you. It’s a post about being different, therefore, not understanding…95% of people on the planet. And it’s got me into trouble/fights more than I care to count.
Maybe it started of as a religion thing. I can’t really be sure.
Sex wasn’t really something we talked about. I was brought up on horror and violence, but sex scenes were fairly taboo. Maybe that’s what started it.
Every therapist I’ve ever been to swears I was molested and I’m blocking out the memory, but I wasn’t.
I just believe that sex is not…how can I put it? Without it coming out wrong?
All my friends love sex. I even have a few in the addicted category. I’m not a prude by any stretch of the imagination. And before, I was skinny and somewhat confident, so it can’t be just from poor self esteem from weight gain. I just can’t handle the thought of people seeing me naked.
And I can’t wrap my head around (and here it is: ) multiple sex partners. No, I don’t mean, orgies. I don’t mean being in a relationship and cheating. I mean, as in, (oh boy…) ever.
Yep, did I lose you?
I can count the amount of people I have kissed on a hand..(and add a finger, I’ll be honest.) I can count the people I’ve been even REMOTELY intimate with on half a hand. And I can count the people I’ve been with sexually with my nose.
Yep. 31, and never been with more than one person.
No, this doesn’t mean I’m “better” than you. It means I can’t understand….most people.
I’m one of those people who get insanely attached. Fast. BOOM. Which luckily (hell, trust me, its also been UNLUCKILY!) means I’m loyal. Ridiculously. Loyal. (Any and all non loyalness stemmed from manic episodes, and even then, I never cheated.) This means a few things.
I can’t understand one night stands.
I can’t understand fuck buddies.
I can’t understand having “long term” (ie six month) relationships every six months.
I just can’t literally understand it.
I’ve been in two ACTUAL relationships in my whole life. One for a little under three years, one just hit fourteen. Yes, the math is shocking. Im 31, spent 17 years of that in long term relationships. (Like I said, that loyal thing…)
How do people go on to love 5 people in life? 10? They do. I see it all the time. Fourth marriages. Seven relationships that all last a few years.
HOW? Seriously…it’s kept me up at night, and kept me thinking for hours while I drive….
My brain would most likely explode.
I (seriously, shut up) looked into HYPNOTHERAPY to get the first guy outta my head. After seven years, I had had enough. At ten years I had to write a letter apologizing for my life because I felt it was owed. Its been 14 years now, and it’s still in daily thought. And yes, my husband is fully aware of such things. Because with my loyalness comes honesty…brutal honesty. Brutal because I have hurt many people in my quest to be honest. That’s for another post entirely…
So tell me, explain to me, help me understand, what would happen to people like me if I had say, 5 I loved? I would most likely be commited. I would lose my mind. (worse than I already have!) Two people ever in my life (and something else we wont go into here….) and I feel like that’s all that could ever fit. Ever. Like, if my husband died tomorrow (knock on wood of course) I literally would probably never be with someone again. ‘Oh sure you would!’ you say. No. HOW? How is there any more room left in my head?
So people think I’m a prude. Or that I’m weird. Or any other myriad of things. But I just feel….like it’s literally IMPOSSIBLE for me to ever be with more than one person. Don’t think I haven’t thought about this whole situation long and hard, I have. I think that’s why I cycle backwards. I’d have to go back to something I was familiar with, and that will not happen. Hopefully for me, we’ll be one of those couples that dies 15 hours apart after our 80th wedding anniversary…even though my husband swears he won’t make it past 45.
If that’s true, it’s going to be a long lonely road for me.
Sometimes (alot of times) I wish that I could be like everyone else, and that if the time came, I could move on. But something about it just won’t let me. Maybe I was born in the wrong era. Maybe my brain thinks it’s 1712. Sometimes being different really sucks.