The fact I’ll die alone without ever feeling the love of a woman besides my mother and without a child saddens me. So, as kind of a consolation, I want to know… How does it feel? Being in love and being together, the sex part, just living together and all that…

  • HelloThere@sh.itjust.works
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    5 months ago

    I wrote this originally for the other thread but it was deleted.


    To start with, it’s clear that your self-esteem is very low, and you’ve internalised an intense criticism of yourself. If you can access one, please speak to a professional, licenced, therapist.

    They will be able to help you build a staircase out, but it will take time. Please try and resist the snake oil salesmen who offer quick solutions, which are designed to fail to keep you coming back.

    To answer the question, at 13 I had developed a crush on a girl in my class, and I was not chill about it. To be clear, I didn’t do anything bad, but it was intense and with 20 years of hindsight she didn’t deserve it. I’d always be staring at her, I’d try to sit near her, I’d set really really obvious MSN status messages about her. During a particularly dark patch I literally carved her name in to my arm with a compass. Throughout all of it she was nothing but kind, and consistent. She didn’t love me. She avoided being around me as much as possible to not give any hint there might be something. She never mocked or teased me.

    There were two girls I knew who would speak to me. They were in relationships with two of my close friends, and were “safe” from possibly becoming the focus of my affection, but also kinda stuck with me because not spending breaktimes in school with your bf would be a scandal of the highest order.

    Over the next 4 years we’d have various conversations, and they’d try and help me realise that what I was doing towards my crush, a) scared off a lot of people, and b) made it very clear to girls who may have had a crush on me (which I refused to believe was possible because I was destined to die cold and alone) that I wasn’t interested in anyone else.

    So by the time I was 17 I had basically alienated myself from all the other girls in school and convinced myself that all my worst thoughts about myself were true, because, well, yeah, obviously.

    Then two things changed.

    First was that I finally accepted that whatever other reasons there were for my situation, my behaviour was making it worse, and that I could at least stop doing that. It wouldn’t solve everything, obviously, but it would allow things to be a tiny bit better. I needed to chill the fuck out, and let go of this obsession with my crush.

    And the other was that, because by this point these two girls were my friends, not just my friend’s gfs, the idea of just speaking normally to women wasn’t scary. Flirting was still terrifying, but some switch flipped in my mind from women being only something to attract and sleep with, like some sort of conquest, to being people just like me who are perfectly happy to just talk about stuff, just like my guy friends. Because I really valued their friendship, I realised that it made me happier than whatever the fuck I was doing to myself about my crush.

    So by being more chill, I’d be less sad, and by just being friends with people I liked, I’d be happier. Win win.

    After a few months of being a bit more chill, and focusing instead on just being a person who it was nice to talk to and be around (yknow, not constantly trying to look down someone’s top) I was at a tiny local gig of maybe 30 people that my friend’s band was playing at. One of the girls in the group I was with had spotted a girl we didn’t know, was our age, but didn’t go to our school. She was enjoying the our friend’s set, but seemed to be on her own. She introduced herself to this girl and asked if she wanted to hang out with us, that the band were our friends and that I (because I did a bunch of computer stuff for them, like burning cds, storing recordings, etc) could give her a free CD and can probably answer any questions she may have.

    This meant we got talking, we had a good evening, at the end of the gig I asked her for her email/msn so I could add her to the newsletter for gig announcements, and that I’d be happy to send her new songs. She gives me it. While I think she’s beautiful, I have no intention to use it for anything else. That would be the actions of a creepy mf, and I was chill now. She’s just a person who happens to like a band I’m involved with, nothing more.

    Over the next, I dunno, 6 months or so, we go from talking occasionally to every day. She introduced me to Ghibli anime, which gave us even more to talk about.

    I end up talking about her all the time to my friends, male and female. They all encourage me to ask her out. I quite literally have a panic attack. I’m terrified that by asking her she will hate me and I’ll lose a really close friend, by being a creepy twat like before. I bitch for weeks about how it’s bullshit that men are meant to make the first move, and one of my female friends finally snaps and says something like “you just said you were up until 3am talking to her about what porn you both like and that she’d really like to try X/Y/Z out, but doesn’t have anyone to do it with. How can you not see that she’s super in to you?!”

    I finally pluck up courage to ask her out on a date, just a meal in town, she immediately accepts. I have a panic attack in the restaurant, I am sick multiple times. It was by all accounts a terrible, terrible, date. I think I spent more like talking to the toilet than her.

    She suggests we go for a walk around instead. Which we do. I spend the rest of the evening hoping that we’ll find a corner shop that is open so I can get some gum, but we don’t find any. We wander around town, getting physically closer with each passing bench, she tucks her self in under my arm “because it’s cold” (in June?!). When she has to get her bus home, I can tell she wants me to kiss her. I cannot kiss her, our first kiss, fuck, my first kiss ever, with whatever remnants of stale sick are on my breath. She may be down, I am not.

    I give her a big hug and peck on the cheek, say I had a great evening, panic attack aside, and please call me when you get home so I know you’re safe.

    An hour or so later the phone rings, and we end up again talking in to the early morning, as things get increasingly explicit.

    The next week I ask her if she wants to be my gf. She immediately accepts. I invite her to the friend-who-told-me-she-was-in-to-me’s 18th birthday party in town. Probably half of our class have been invited, including many of the girls I’d alienated myself from. This time I eat very little to make sure there is nothing to puke up should I have another panic attack, and get some gum. She arrives after me, and my friend would later claim “how did HelloThere get a girlfriend?” was something people spoke to her more about than her actual birthday.

    Later, I walked her to her bus, and this time we did kiss. It was similateously the most under, and over, whelming experience of my life to that point. Physically it was pleasant - we both knew that she was my first kiss, and that I wasn’t hers - so the fact that I didn’t immediately smash my teeth in to hers was a win. But emotionally it was a rollercoaster. I don’t want to suggest that from that point on I was some sort of Cassanova, because I am not at all, but the amount of validation I felt in those 15 seconds or so was immense. This was the proof that this person I thought was incredible actually did like me. Why? No idea, I’m literal human garbage, but she thinks I’m not! Holy fuck! Or she’s in to garbage. Either way, yay!

    Over the next 4 months or so we tick off the rest of the firsts, and gave our virginities to each other.

    You asked specifically about sex. Losing my virginity was one of the least enjoyable sexual experiences I’ve ever had in my life. But I’ll cherish it forever. Emotionally, like the kiss, it was everything all at once.

    We broke up after about 18 months. I’d moved away and gone to university, and had moved on. While I was the one who broke up with her, the aftermath I handled terribly and was just a prick. I left horrible voicemails and would later drunk text non-apologies - she ultimately blocked my number, Facebook, everything. And she was right to.

    After a few months I had calmed down and got better at regulating my emotions, and eventually I went to therapy and got help with abandonment and esteem issues.

    Many, many, years and 3 more failed relationships on, I’m 9 years in to a very stable long term relationship with someone I absolutely adore. My single goal is to not repeat the same mistakes as before, and we tackle everything as a team. If we’re feeling uneasy we speak to each other and help each other. I’m so proud of what we have built together. She is the smartest, most empathetic and kindest person I know. I count myself so lucky that she is my best friend, a willing big spoon, and I get to play with her boobies. It’s incredible.

    But it all started with me accepting a sliver of responsibility for myself, that I had a small ability to make things better, and if I did then maybe others would respond positively to it, and want to be around me.

    • RiverGhost@slrpnk.net
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      5 months ago

      I really enjoyed reading your story. It’s honest about your faults and kind to yourself at the same time. I hope I can find a way to see my own life in a similar way.

      • HelloThere@sh.itjust.works
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        5 months ago

        Thank you.

        It’s taken a long time, and I’ll be honest and admit that a good amount of what was written above was by the more adult and rational parts of my mind, than the emotive bits. I’m still working through a lot of shame, and on bad days it’s still floods back, but usually less than before.

        There’s many thousands of steps ahead of you, but you’ll get there, I believe in you.