I’ve been avoiding confronting this head on, not just the past few months with the written word, but through the decades of my adult life.  I find it difficult to talk about but it’s at the point where if it’s not resolved now it will forever be a mental block, holding me back from fully enjoying myself.

I have a real problem with sex.

I’m not sure when it first manifested itself but I’ve no doubt it contributed greatly to the break-up with my ex, the results of which have been plain for everyone to see, hear or read about.  In short, I feel not ashamed of my body, but embarrassed by it, and feel great reluctance in sharing it with anyone.

I guess, luckily, I’ve been with partners where ‘no’ has really meant ‘no’ to them, regardless of what stage of the lovemaking we’ve been at.  Never once have I ever been accused of leading anyone along.  Perhaps they have sensed my deep insecurities and made allowances for it.  In any case, I have always felt awful about it afterwards, letting them down like that.

It’s not even at a ‘got to the stage now where …’ sort of thing.  It’s almost always been that way.  When the sex has been full and complete, it’s been satisfying and I’ve felt loved and wanted.  Yet the very next day the same old insecurities return.  So, so annoying.

An integral part is definitely how I view my own body.  Some parts I like.  I have good legs, definitely, and when they’re not weeping in the sunlight or have dark shadows of sleeplessness below them, I have a little twinkle in my eye.  And a nice smile.

For me, though, that’s where it ends.  The rest of my body I recoil from.  I don’t see how anyone can find it remotely attractive and buy clothes to ensure as much of myself is hidden from view.  I sometimes think a black sack with a couple of cut-outs to see out of would be perfect.

It also applies to my nether regions.  I can’t bear to look down there, even when I’m washing.  Maybe it’s a more generalised thing though.  During sex I really don’t like catching sight of my partner’s either.  It’s puzzling as I’m far from a prude.

Now a real problem during sex occurs with those parts too.  I really, really don’t like anyone touching my nether regions, either, which is pretty much an essential thing.  I freeze and tense up when that happens, which is when I generally stop things too.  It’s terribly frustrating for both of us.  Or maybe the three of us (though that’s another story).

Depression Sex

As can be seen, my problems with sex run deep, and aren’t just in mind and spirit but also in body as well.  It has a detrimental effect on the other person, too, which in turn makes me feel worse.  More than one has said that they think I don’t find them attractive when that’s happened, which really isn’t the case.

I don’t just jump into the sack with anyone.  I’d like to think, for my age, I have had under the average for number of sexual partners, which is made up for with intimacy and meaning when we’ve had sex or generally in our relationships.

After all, snuggling up in bed is wonderful, as well as a lingering kiss and a whisper of love.  Walking down the street hand in hand feels magical.  Whatever I’ve lacked in sex, my relationships have made up for in love and affection in all other areas.

It can’t get away from the fact, though, that I have a real mental block which has lasted for decades.  My low self esteem has manifested itself into many shapes and forms, one of which has ended up with me stopping others from lessening that feeling, by preventing sex.

I have to, after all these years, somehow sort this, which is sending anxiety right through even this very moment.  It’s maybe why I was so enthusiastic about being referred to a sex therapist. I’m too afraid to confront it and do anything about it on my own.  That in itself is crazy because the act of sex is probably the most natural thing a human being does.  Apart from hating Piers Morgan and Simon Cowell.

So what happens next?  Do I get told I have a nice body so often I start to believe it?  Do I have to try to recall a seemingly innocuous moment in life that instigated this aversion to sex and being touched?  I’ve no idea, but it frightens me to think what is lurking in my mind, stopping me from enjoying the great fortune I have bestowed upon me by living here, under a roof, with food on the table.

I owe it to myself though to at least overcome this and be a lover to my lover again some time.  To my next one anyway.  After all, there’s only so much time you can fill in bed with Sudoku and the Readers Digest.

But allowing someone to love me sexually?  Hmmm, what a novel idea …..


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