I verily, truly, honestly and deeply believe that in some form I have an addiction to sex.
Growing up I wanted a boyfriend.
In junior high I liked a boy. He wanted my best friend instead.
This is the time a friend told me to stop looking for a boyfriend, and just let it happen.
So I did.
In high school I liked a boy. He wanted another girl instead.
I was already halfway through a process of becoming someone who would never have a thought about wanting a boyfriend. I never wanted him as a boyfriend. But I liked the way he looked and felt and the way he looked at me.
He was not my first love, but he was the first.
I left the city. My evolution into a hard hearted girl edged onward.
Within the past two years I had completed my transformation into an ascetic of sorts, wholly abstaining from romantic love. I dedicated all the time I would have given to a man to my art and my work. And it has been good. When I slept with a man, it would be him who wanted more and I would be the one who laughed. Now it was me who got to say, "well maybe you shouldn't have put out so fast."
Then another man came into my life who would make me question my austerity.
I think I wanted to be with him. Then I left the city.
And I've come to know why having a boyfriend will not work for me.
I change my mind so often and require so many different personalities in my bed that I could never promise myself to only one.
So I will not do that to a man I care about. I will stay alone. I will take what I need from men as they come and go.
I can't be with you because you will not hurt me. And I need the hurt to be happy.
I've been thinking about my sexuality and why it is like this. Once I thought I was just kicking back at society. But it goes deeper.
I was in kindergarten when I got brought into a dimly lit room with five other children. We were told we were in this special class because we were a little bit smarter than the rest. The teacher read us a little picture book about a little girl and an older man. The man was her stepdad and offered the girl toys in exchange for weird acts of touching and more gifts to keep the touching secret. After the reading, we were told if we had experiences like the little girl to tell another adult and not keep it hidden.
I thought I was put in this class because I was a good reader. That's what my mother told me. But I'm thinking it could have been because they thought I had been assaulted myself, which I had never been. Historically, children who have been assaulted exhibit some form of sexual behaviour very early so I think I might have been conducting myself in a way that made my teachers think this. Essentially I've been at least noticeably sexual since as young as six just because I was fucked up all on my own. Growing up I only hung out with boys. I remember playing in a large toy block shelter with a boy and getting pulled out by a supervisor in my daycare. I wasn't allowed to play alone with the boys in a spot that no one could see. I had my own room and tv at my grandparents house and when I went there for the weekends, I would stay up and watch Sexual Secrets, keeping the volume low. The show wasn't even pornographic, I just was enthralled by nudity and the concept of intercourse. At an age when internet still blocked up the phone line and I was only allowed on the computer for a choice amount of time, I would spend it looking at strange cartoon pornography. In high school there was a point where I stopped getting invited to parties because I would go and just try to fuck someone the whole time. After I lost my virginity I never wanted to fuck again. I was in the midst of an eating disorder that was destroying my mind and wouldn't leave room for me to even think about sharing my body with someone. It was my addiction to non-eating. When I stopped starving myself from food, I realized how hungry I was for touch. I put one addiction in the place of another. Now I'm an artist and everything I make is about sex. I animated a loop of squares two days ago and although visually there is nothing sexually suggestive, I realized the colours I had chosen were all flesh tones. I've been thinking a lot about how I'm going to get through my semester abroad. Because I don't sleep with strangers. I haven't slept with anyone at my art school at home so I imagine it will be similar here too. I thought about going to a strip club. Men go in and pay for dances and extras, so why can't I? Wouldn't it even be better since I'm a woman? I remember some of the dancers back at the club I used to work in actually being very pretty. But would I be so desperate to pay for sex? If men pay for women to take control of them, if they pay for the opportunity to submit to a woman... could I do the same to a man? Does such a thing exist? Am I in such a backwards spiral of thought that I can't accept the idea that it would not be so hard to find a man to hit me in bed as I think? This is where I will truly understand how deep my addiction lies. I decided to write off men for now to keep my mind off it and pursue women instead just to think about something else for once.