Issues, issues, issues

In anticipation of moving back to Europe, my mind has been acting like a child, imagining a variety of scenarios, both pleasant and not so much.

Where I’m going to be living, what job I’m going to be waking up for every single day, what kind of people I’m going to meet and become friends with, you know, all the good stuff! And what do you know, maybe I’ll even fall in love?

Wait… love?

Relationships??

Shit…

Now I’m sad.

What, why?

Why is that?

I decided to do some digging around, playing therapist with myself in the small dusty study, the comfort of my own head.

I’m quite comfortable addressing some of my lighter personal issues and trauma without the help of a licensed professional, be it perfectionism or procrastination. But when it comes to problems that involve other people, I feel as though my inner therapist is a little bit under-qualified, and thus I ended up in a depressive episode trying to shovel out the mud covering this part of my mind.

So here comes a confessional that most likely shouldn’t be on the internet.

I am most bothered by the thought of sex and my past experiences and memories that surround it. I want to love, I want to be loved, I do want a relationship, the type that you wouldn’t see in movies because it’s too vulnerable, too honest and too real for the liking of the general public.

But I always come back to the sex part of it. It’s something that’s supposed to happen when you’re in a relationship, right?

Shit.

I never cared much about sex, its implications or the fact that there’s supposed to some emotion surrounding it, let alone honestly enjoyed the experience.

To me, it has always been something that’s going to happen eventually and something that I’ll have to deal with whether I wanted to or not.
Sounds healthy already, doesn’t it?

Looking back on my pre-teen and teenage years up until the present times, I remember numerous instances of childish crushes, only for the feelings to die out never to be returned.

I even had an inside joke with myself that whoever I get a crush on will end up in a relationship within the next month as it happened so often. I never told the people how I felt, yet I still got my poor little heart broken every so often.

Taking the above into consideration, it is safe to assume that I have never, not even once in my life ended up in bed with someone I truly fancied.
Yes, I’m almost 25 years old, yes, I have been in relationships before, and yes, I stand by this statement.

I moved to Japan at the simple age of 19, never having dated, eager to experience life in all of its glory, infinitely naive and trusting, on the verge of plain stupid.

And so, the way it usually went down for me was thus. Hanging out one-on-one with someone I considered a purely platonic friend, only for them to make sexual advances at the end of the night.

And then me, not turning them down.

Being used to not having my feelings returned and growing up with severe mommy issues and emotional deprivation, the desire, or rather the raw need to be wanted had overwhelmed me. Unfortunately, I did not realize this at the time which lead to the making of some questionable “non-decisions.”

I didn’t want to lose the “friendship” in which I was wanted, so I went along with it.

I didn’t want to hurt their feelings so I went along with it.

I didn’t want to make it awkward and have to explain why I didn’t want their dick anywhere near me, so I went along with it.

Sex never meant anything to me, so I simply went along with it.

Because going along with it was easier than saying no.

I can remember and name at least 5 instances with the above scenario followed by the other party confessing their feelings to me after the fact.

We had sex, that means you feel the same way, right?

What, when did this happen?

I thought we were just friends going out for drinks? Friends with benefits if you want to go there?

Did I miss the memo saying that going for drinks with a man one-on-one instantly meant that I was into them romantically?

I do not remember signing a contract stating that if I was to miss the last train when out drinking with a man, I was to have sex with said person which will a hundred percent lead us into a relationship.

Am I socially inept?

Most likely the case.

But even though I would go along with their advances in hopes of not hurting their feeling or the friendship itself, I would end up doing just that by distancing myself after having been asked out.

I remember at the time thinking that this scenario was getting old and way too played out, never assuming that the guys would have feelings for someone like me (mommy issues!) just because we went out for drinks.
And yet they would confess to me after having had drunk sex in some run-down love hotel.

Are these the implications behind sex?

But remembering those events at the present time, I feel like a monster.
From the outside, it looks as though I lead them on only to use them for sex, then immediately distancing myself at the first sight of someone catching feelings.

I feel like a shittier, somehow worse version of a fuckboy.

But the truth is that I never was the one to make advances or the one to initiate anything of the sort, I went along with them in hopes of avoiding any unpleasant feelings on their part, in turn surrendering any self-worth that I had left, which to be honest, at the time wasn’t much.
And so ending up as the bad guy because to me, sex never had any feelings attached to it, it never meant anything.

In my mind, sex seems to sit opposite of purely romantic feelings.

And yet I somehow managed to create issues for myself on both sides of the relationship coin.

Even when I have a crush on someone, I … honestly do not want to date them.

My fantasies of a cute relationship always end up in a cold wave of dread upon remembering sex.

I want to learn everything that there is to learn about the person I’m interested in, but I do not want to see them naked.

I want to listen to them talk for hours, I want to help and support them however I can, but the thought of having sex completely repulses me.

And then I start feeling sorry for the crush for having come on so strong and putting them off when I never actually wanted a relationship, as all I ever wanted was to know them.

I feel bad for being so confusing and leading them to think that I wanted something physical out of them when that has never been the case.

These thoughts have left me entertaining the possibility of being asexual. Although I do enjoy the sexual tension and the intense flirtation that precedes sex, I get aroused by the possibility of it rather than the act itself. That doesn’t sound like a very asexual thing to say, so there goes this idea out the window.

Could it be that I’m unconsciously avoiding sex due to the mountains of unresolved issues piled up in my head and heart?

Will I ever end up with someone that I have feelings for and not the other way around?

Who knows, I most definitely have no idea.

You might be thinking that this isn’t something I should be putting on the internet, but whereas I do pray that my parents never come across this, I also have to let it out before this depressive episode consumes me.

And well, I’ll be able to send this post to my future therapist making things a whole lot easier for both of us.