Addiction

My Husband’s Sex Addiction Drove Me to
Divorce Him
Early on in a relationship, the sex is new and
exciting and awesome. And you want it all. The.
Time. There’s that new love euphoria that clouds
your rationality that maybe there’s more to life
than being physically intimate with this person,
because omg! the touching just feels so good, and
he seems to love your body, and your body loves
his body, and crazy awesome hormones are
pumping through your veins, and it really is like
being in an altered state of reality.
When you’re in a new relationship with someone
you really like, and they really like you too, you
basically both become sex addicts. You want it
when you want it, and damn the consequences. So
what if you’re a little late to work — that quickie
before you got out of bed that morning was totally
worth it.
Eventually though, those feelings settle down, and
you either break up or you move to a new level of
the relationship; one that maybe isn’t quite as
exciting , but definitely much more comfortable.
You get to know each other’s bodies really well,
but you also get to know each other better, and
pick up on each other’s cues, and respect them
and take care of them, and know that it’s ok if
they’re occasionally not feeling the groove.
Unless you’re with a sex addict.
I didn’t realize I’d married a sex addict until years
after our wedding day. We only dated for a few
months before we got married, so basically I was
still in sex-addict mode myself when I promised to
love him until I died.
Eventually, I’d start wishing I were dead.
My ex-husband truly believed he owned my body
and that I was in the wrong if I ever denied him
access. When I wouldn’t give in to his advances
because I was friggin’ tired from taking care of
little kids, or not feeling well, or just because I
didn’t feel like it right then, he would coldly turn
his back on me and heave deep sighs of put-
upon-ness, and I would cry myself to sleep
because I just wanted to feel loved without having
to have sex.
More from The Stir : Sex Addiction’s Surprising
Ties to Mental Illness
He told me that he was being respectful by only
wanting it daily, because he thought three times a
day or more would be a good amount, but even
he realized that was a bit much to ask of a wife.
See? He was being really respectful of me! Why
didn’t I appreciate him more?
When you’re with someone that wants it all the
time, there’s never a chance for you to want it.
You know he’s constantly thinking about it. It’s
the only way he feels like he’s living, and it drains
the life out of you.
He turned to porn. I wished he would turn to other
women, but as the long-suffering husband, I don’t
think his psyche would allow for it. The porn
further warped his sexual expectations, and his
bitterness at my continued reluctance to be
physically intimate with him more than three or
four times a week grew.
He started ignoring me outside of the bedroom too,
and I don’t think we had one real conversation the
last two years of our marriage. I tried to talk to
him about it, but he said there was no problem
and it was all in my head, and he looooooved me
so much. It was my problem, not his.
Eventually I started declining more and more, and
when he touched me, I would inwardly cringe. All
touch leads to sex. One of the red flags I had
ignored early on in our relationship was his
comment that there was no point in touching if it
wasn’t going to lead to sex.
When he started just climbing on top of me, I
didn’t call it rape because I didn’t stop him, even
though I had told him I didn’t want to do it. I lay
there, hating myself and hating him and wishing he
would cheat on me so I could have an excuse to
leave. He hated that I didn’t seem into anymore.
We went to couples therapy and the therapist
wanted to put me on anti-depressants. I didn’t
have the fortitude at that point to try another
therapist. Meanwhile, I had started individual
counseling and was slowly re-establishing my own
self-worth.
One night when I really did push him away, he
punched the pillow next to my head, and for the
first time, I was really scared. He turned his back
on me and in minutes was snoring. I lay awake all
night wondering what to do.
I started saving money. I gave up trying to talk to
him. We were like two ice cubes living together.
The kids were anxious a lot. A few months after
the pillow-hitting incident, I hired an attorney and
filed for divorce. I moved out with the kids with
nothing but the photo albums, some clothes, and
my car.
Then all hell broke loose, because all of a sudden I
was the heartless bitch that left her devoted, loyal
husband without just cause. I’ve been called a
whore to my face. I’ve lost friends, and
acquaintances look at me with pity reserved for
those that are making major mistakes. I’ve been
told I’m ruining my kids’ lives, but the truth is that
they’re doing better than ever.
I’m doing better too. My body is mine again, and I
will never again let someone convince me that I
don’t have total ownership over it.