Sexual Healing Is Real
How a man I met in a bar gave me back myself.
My first husband was gay. Okay, maybe bisexual, but just barely. Even when I divorced him after eleven years, he never told me face-to-face. Instead, he told my sister, knowing she would pass the information on to me.
Trying to understand the relationship, I had asked several times whether he preferred men. He’d always say no, though months would have passed with no suggestion of sex.
I finally got REALLY tired of being touched only after I had practically begged for it for weeks, and I let an older colleague pick me up in a bar and take me home. By that time, my sexual self-esteem was ground down to invisibility.
By allowing myself to get drunk and “mess around,” I had manipulated myself into a position where integrity demanded separating from the man I’d married between undergrad and grad school.
That colleague was a stepping stone, not a relationship, but another man I worked with quickly saw in me a way out of his marriage. With no reason I could then understand to reject the relationship, which had red flags and banners waving everywhere, I took him on and quickly married him.
That, friends, is what happens when your self-esteem has been destroyed. Virtually anyone who smiles at you is good enough to follow like a starving dog.
