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Ages 40 and up / My addiction killed my marriage
« on: September 05, 2019, 02:59:20 PM »
Where does one begin? I suppose starting at the beginning would be the best place to start. I didn’t set out in life to be a lousy husband. Hell to be honest, when I got married, I thought I was a pretty good person. I was probably too immature to get married when I did. I’m writing this out now as I sit in Iraq. You see I’m going home to a divorce. It was a long time in coming. Lord knows my wife did her best to keep us together. She gave more of herself than any human has a right to ask. What follows is probably pretty incoherent, but hopefully it will help me to better understand myself so I can learn and move on. I’m going to try to include everything that led to me becoming the person I did. Hopefully you can learn from my mistakes so you don’t make similar ones in the future.
My very first introduction to the world of sex came about as most teenage boys did, with finding the Playboys and Hustler’s of mine and my friends’ dads. Man we thought that stuff was great. That exposure probably shaped my reactions to a lot of future situations. See it became my drive to acquire all the porn mags I could get my hands on. I was pretty nosy, going into every cabinet, linen closet, bathroom closet or what have you that I could. Any mags I found I would smuggle out and squirrel back into my own stash.
The first time my mom found my stuff she burned it, then gave me a long and terrible lecture about how horrible it was, and how it was sinful to have it and look at that stuff and how I was going to burn in hell if I ever had premarital sex. My mom is still a devout Catholic. Somehow the teachings of the church never took for me. What I was supposed to learn from that experience though is that it was wrong of me to want to look at porn, and masturbation was a SIN!!. But… how could something that made me feel so good be wrong? It really only encouraged me to learn to hide my porn better. It made it exciting to have something I enjoyed but had to hide.
So I continued my exploits, acquiring what porn I could find and stashing it away. One day I happened to find a Penthouse Letters magazine. This was a whole new thing for me. It was WORD PORN! There was one story that really stuck in my adolescent mind. There was this guy that had a busted pipe that flooded his basement or something. So he was on the phone to his insurance agent who happened to have a rather nice voice and long story short I discovered the concept of phone sex.
And looky here, what was peppered throughout the magazine I was holding? Numbers for me to try on my own. Porn age verification hasn’t changed at all since I was a kid. “Hey, you’re 18 right?” Throw that onto a 900 number that charges back to your landline and bada bing bada boom, I was soon looking at a $3000 dollar phone bill. My parents were going to commit murder when they saw that.
So I did the only logical thing in my teenage brain and hid the fucking thing. Which only delayed the inevitable because eventually the phone got cut off, my parents called the phone company, found out what happened and grounded me. I also got to do a stint doing hard labor manually leveling the backyard with a wheelbarrow, shovel, and some dirt my dad had acquired from somewhere. That didn’t deter me though.
For some reason my mom got it into her head that I was depressed or something. There was something wrong with me that had to be fixed, because god knows, teenagers aren’t immature and prone to doing stupid things on their own right? Having a burgeoning interest in sex and experimenting and acting out the way I had meant there had to be something wrong with me. I don’t know if that’s how my mom really felt or not.
But she was determined to fix me. She scheduled me an appointment with a psychiatrist. Overall it was pretty unproductive experience. I didn’t want to talk about what I had done. I was embarrassed as hell. And my mom thought the way to get me to stop, was to talk about what I had done, and why I had done it, with a complete stranger. I didn’t want to talk about what I had done, what kid would? I knew what I had done was wrong, even before I started. But I went and did it anyway. Pay attention ‘cause you will see this material again.
So a few months had gone past, I finally stopped going to the shrink because honestly I didn’t want to be there, and you can’t help someone who won’t help themselves. I had enjoyed my phone sex experience so much, I wanted more, but how? I found out through talking with my neighbor’s son that they were going to Disneyland for a week. The wheels in my brain got to churning and I hatched a PLAN.

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