Sufferer My Introduction; This Is Somewhat Of A Last Resort..

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So, being that this is my introductory post, I think I’ll just get right into it. I have a slight tendency to run off on tangents at times while trying to explain myself, but I’ll do my best in keeping this as straight forward as possible. Also I’d also like to forewarn, parts of this will be sexual and I don’t mean to offend anyone, I just wanted to try to express my thoughts and experiences to the best of my ability in hopes that I may get help. Growing up in Elementary school I was bullied quite viciously. Most of my torment was derived from what my peers perceived to be my sexual orientation, ie. they called me 'gay'. As a young child this was very traumatic for me, and eventually it led to my parents deciding to move our family. When I came to my new school and city, things changed drastically for me. The new kids I met were all much easier to get along with. In what seemed like a miracle to me at the time, I quickly made friends and the issues of old had been left behind. Around this time I began developing my first romantic feelings, which I might add were strongly hetero-romantic. In the years to follow I hit puberty and the combination of a very strong romantic drive, coupled with raging hormones made me a real casa-nova, and it was something I (as a man) prided myself upon.

High school came and things continued to trend the way they had been. My passion and drive made it very easy for me to continue to make friends and I continued to have a lot of success with my sexual/romantic relationships. Life at this point for me was almost euphoric. Though often clouded by emotions (like most), I’m a very logical thinker, so I knew everyone had their problems but at the end of the day I figured that mostly everyone was like me; and furthermore, couldn't fathom the idea of not being thrilled with daily life. One of my own problems at the time, which I don't believe I'll ever not have, was dealing with major insecurities. This could of course stem from the bullying that I received during a developmental portion of my childhood, but that’s just speculation on my part. Whenever anything didn't go the way I believed it was "supposed to" I blew things out of proportion; stressing and worrying and developing severely negative thoughts, creating scenarios in my mind that I didn't truly believe, but considered possible in my state of panic.

One such insecurity was my issue with the act of sex. Don't get me wrong, my sexual and romantic attraction to women at the time was beyond words and I did everything else possible (to the point where I may have been, and may still be some sort of addict), however when it came to the actual act, I would get all flustered and lose that connection. As a man who'd previously had no other real problems (of late) and who knew how strongly I felt for the fairer sex, this was very tough for me to deal with. Everything in society (and to my knowledge at the time, science) told us, boy meets girl, falls for girl, and they eventually engage in sexual congress as an act of their feelings towards one another. So when I had problems, I began to question myself as a person which you can imagine was very troubling. During a time where all my friends and peers were beginning to have sex (or so they claimed), and with the pressures I placed upon myself regarding the matter, I found myself lying a lot about the topic in order to try to fit in, all the while struggling in my personal life.

Life moved on however, and in years to follow, I slowly eased into having sex and was beginning to become comfortable with the idea. Again, life was great. I was roughly 18 at this point, finishing high school, when I started seeing an older girl. We worked together at the time and I quickly developed feelings for her. It was clear to me that those feelings were not unrequited and it wasn't long before we ended up together. With this one, I'm not sure what it was, but I was so driven by my passion that any of my previous hang-ups with sex had gone out the window. I wanted her. Badly. I easily found myself having relations with her (even on the first attempt which had always been extra nerve wracking for me), several times a day and we grew very fond of one another. Life for me at the time couldn't possibly have gotten any better. However, this is where I began to fall apart. After a few lustful months, one day completely out of the blue, things changed dramatically for me. I’ll never forget it. We'd just finished having sex, and were laying outside in her backyard by the pool. Here she was, this blonde, tanned, bombshell of a girl, in a very revealing bathing suit, and for whatever reason something in my mind felt off or wrong. Looking back, I think I can now say that at this moment, I believe that I’d had a panic attack, though again I have no idea why. It was the strangest thing, but I just felt like I didn't want to be near her anymore; like I had to be away from her immediately, and at all costs. Seems a bit much I know, but imagine the confusion I felt.

After that, this panicked feeling persisted and I no longer had the drive to be around her, so much so that I stopped answering her calls and texts altogether. I know, dick move but unfortunately I'd always been very action-based off emotion, so I did what I felt was "right" as I imagine we all try to do. Anyways, this began a troubling sequence for me. For a long time I wondered about why this was happening. Insecurities came back slightly so I thought "well maybe, I'm turning gay?" and that really set me off. I became enraged, and upset and confused thinking how can someone go from being so strongly driven one moment, to literally a life altering change in the next. I wrestled with this idea for some time and eventually dismissed it thinking that it was in fact only my deep seeded insecurities getting the better of me. So, life went on as it does, but my feelings weren't as cut and dry as they'd once been and worry became a bigger and bigger part of daily life. As mentioned, having been (and still possibly being) some sort of a sexual addict, made me constantly think about my "problems" at the time. I was consumed by the task of proving to myself that I wasn't in fact a homosexual and I did this by checking out women constantly and flirting with literally everyone, thinking about them sexually to make sure I still responded accordingly.

I know this isn't healthy, but as previously mentioned, my identity was what drove me in life as a person and being so insecure I always needed that reassurance. Then one day, through friends I met another girl. At this point, my sexual identity wasn't as concrete as I'd liked so I was more nervous pursuing her but at the end of the day I still believed that I was in fact a heterosexual. I'd also like to mention that I had never heard of anything besides the terms "hetero" or "homo"-sexual, so the idea that maybe I was possibly a demi-romantic or homo or bi-romantic wasn't something I could've considered. Anyways, because of my insecurities, this relationship began at a much slower pace. It took a long while before I finally accepted that I did in fact want to be with her. This relationship flourished into what would become the greatest love I'd known to that point in my life (and currently for that matter).

I was roughly 20 years old now, and hung out mostly with friends from high school. Sadly, some of my closest friends at the time were, in my opinion, not truly good people. My new girlfriend was not the most attractive girl I'd ever gone out with, in fact she may have been close to the worst looking (albeit still quite pretty). My ‘friends’ were constantly in my ear telling me to cheat, that I could do better, that I shouldn't be with her. For a long time I ignored them, however being with this girl brought back a lot of my self-confidence and sexual identity and unfortunately, eventually, with my new found sense of confidence, and the constant venomous suggestions of ‘friends’ I began to waver in my loyalty. I started going out to clubs/bars with my friends, and danced and flirted with all sorts of girls. Looking back, part of the reason why I went along with this was because I felt good about myself again being able to have the positive emotional and sexual feedback I expected (that I once held very strongly). It's pathetic I know, but at the end of the day I was human and part of my struggle with life now is looking back at this behavior and realizing that I was too weak and selfish to stop myself. Moving on, eventually the flirting became more and one day down the road I'd joined a volleyball tournament with a group of friends from work.

A few of the girls we worked with came along as it was a co-ed team. One of them in fact, had been a bit younger, but was very attractive and very attracted to me. As a team we spent the entire day and night drinking and playing volleyball. It was a great time and as the liquor continued to pour my resolve began to fade and thoughts of getting with this girl became stronger and stronger. To be clear, I know I am in fact a good person at heart, just at times a weak one. I was raised with strong morals, have a strong sense of family, and what’s right and wrong; so the idea of cheating was one I didn't ever want to associate with myself as in the past (when I was concrete in my identity) I'd been entirely faithful with previous relationships and never considered the notion. However, at this point in my life, insecurity held a much stronger grasp on my psyche so when the chance to reassure myself came about, in moments of weakness, I couldn't help but act on it. I'd also like to refer back to my relationship of the time and state that though I was doing all these things on the side, I was still madly in love with my then current girl. She had become my world, or at least one side of it; the good one. Back to the tournament.

The aforementioned 'younger girl' (being younger), got too drunk trying to keep up with us, and eventually asked me to help her to her car to sleep it off. At this point I wasn't so far gone and still had my morals about me, so I did take her back, help her get comfortable then went back with the others. The night progressed and I continued to drink, and eventually was intoxicated. I wasn't to the point where I wasn't aware of what I was doing, but certainly was a bit 'looser'. I eventually made my way back to my tent only to find, guess who? The younger girl was lying there. Now of course, for anyone this is just about the ultimate temptation scenario. I was Adam, and the forbidden fruits had been dropped into my tent. It is in my opinion and my experience that we as humans tend to want what we can't or shouldn't have, the most. My immediate thought was, "Okay, she's here. Just lie down, and go to sleep and be done with it. You're a good person, and you don't need to do this. You love your girlfriend." So I proceeded to lie down and attempt to drift off. My hormones however had entirely different thoughts on the matter. Things may have been fine for all of five minutes, until she rolled over and nestled against me.

At this point my emotions were aflame and I was raging inside (and out). I struggled to fight the urges for a short while, but eventually we kissed, and that led to more, and more and then we had sex. I remember I finished quickly the first time I was inside of her thanks to the pent up desire of the moments leading to the act. I was however still very much engrossed by that passion so moments later I wanted her again. It was after the second time that my hormones finally subsided and the logical, loving, emotional side of me took hold again. I sat up at first, with a blank stare. The next moments I can't exactly recall, but I remember the feelings. At that moment, I thought about my girlfriend. About the unyielding and deep love I held for her and it was then that I had what I can only imagine was a full-fledged mental breakdown. In that instant, I can remember what I can only describe as my very being (my psyche and sexual/romantic identity more specifically) ripping apart. I remember standing up and pacing vigorously back and forth in the tent, my mind racing, struggling with the combination of guilt, self-loathing and shame I felt for what I'd done. The young girl was confused and asked what was wrong, eventually questioning me on suspicions about having a girl-friend. I lied, saying it was complicated and that we'd been going through a rough patch and were currently split up. I remember storming out of the tent and into the open to sit by a fire that had been lit earlier in the night. I sat there, thinking about everything and at the same time not thinking at all. I spaced out so much that at one point I came back to reality, only momentarily, to realize that it had begun to rain heavily. There I sat for hours, in this torrential down pour and yet, I couldn't physically feel anything. Things with my girl-friend changed at this point. I wanted to be with her, and I tried my best to hide all the shame and negative feelings I now carried with me at all times, but as you can imagine, it didn’t go over well.

My relationship became unhealthy. I remember a time when she and I had been sitting in my bed, were cuddling, and we kissed. I felt nothing. I felt worse than nothing. I felt empty. Not just guilty, or sad, but as if something was missing. The joy and happiness that once came from the touch of her lips had been replaced by a void. One that quickly consumed me. I tried to carry on for some time, ignoring how I felt, doing everything I could to grasp onto the relationship that had meant literally everything to me such a short time ago but it never got better. Only worse in fact. On top of having to deal with whatever was going on inside me, I felt the need to put on a facade regarding my daily life; pretending that everything was as it should be, and that I was inherently happy, though in reality I was the farthest thing from it. Finally one day, after yet another empty exchange of a kiss, I cracked. I backed away from the kiss, with a look on my face, that I can only imagine conveyed distress and unease because my girlfriend immediately questioned me. I told her, “I’m sorry, but…I feel nothing.” Now, no matter what the situation, no one in a relationship ever wants to hear that. She was confused and asked what I meant, so I explained that when we kissed at that moment (I lied about all the other previous occurrences as well) I just felt nothing. I should say that around this time, I was taking a mild form of a steroid (so much so that it’s not even considered a steroid because of its chemical make-up). I had mentioned this to my girlfriend and she didn’t like the idea from the beginning, and had worried about possible side effects, so she said that maybe this lack of feeling derived from the chemicals I was putting into my system. I hadn’t thought of it that way before, and a large part of me didn’t believe it to be true, but I wanted that to be the case so I dumped the rest of the pills down the toilet.

A couple months went on and things got worse to the point where I was almost physically repulsed just being around my girlfriend, but, with the facade I’d put on, my days were mostly spent with her, in secret internal anguish. The idea of intimacy became a thing of the past, and soon we spent our days doing not much of anything besides lounging around, watching movies, and eating. My girlfriend must’ve known that though I did my best to make everyone believe things were alright, something very serious was wrong and so she became suspicious. One day I received a text from her asking me to come to her house. Something felt off about the casual request. It’s funny, when you’ve done something wrong and you spend your days trying to cover it up, when you’re finally caught, you know it. And that was the exact feeling that ran through my mind while on my way over to her house. I went to her door, it opened and I was confronted by her. In her hands, she held some print-outs of conversations I’d had with other girls over a popular instant-messenger site. The conversations were heavily flirtatious, though none divulged anything regarding me actually physically cheating, I had however been caught being unfaithful. Some of the conversations had been from the time when I was listening to my so-called friends who’d told me to do better, some had come after the tent-incident, in an attempt to re-affirm the fading confidence in my identity. She slammed the door in my face, and once again I had that moment of extreme self-loathing that I’d experienced when I actually had cheated on her back at the tournament. The next few days I did everything I could in an attempt to talk to her but to no avail. Eventually however, after much effort on my part she agreed to listen.

I spent the better part of the next couple weeks trying to explain to her she was the girl I loved, and the other girls were ultimately an unfortunate bi-product of my insecurities. I begged her to take me back. Partly because I still loved her and wanted things to go back to the way they were, and partly because I knew that at that point, if I weren’t with her, I couldn’t be with anyone else because I felt nothing for any other girl, and that scared me. Soon after she gave me a second chance, but it came at a cost. The relationship (which I now realize was dead), had many unfavorable and unkind boundaries. My actions had turned my sweet, kind, caring girlfriend into a completely paranoid head-case (funny to say coming from me, I know). Anyways, from then on, my ‘proverbial’ leash, was a tight one. So much so that she even disallowed me to go on and thus forced me to cancel a trip with my best friend (who happened to be one of the good ones and is to this day like a brother to me). We spent most of our days together, as we had, however having thought things were fixed, she proceeded to show interest in and decidedly pursued our sex life once again. My feelings on the subject hadn’t changed however I found that the physical part of sex, I was still able to do. I will admit though, that I felt only pain and sadness during intercourse. I wasn’t able to climax unless I had her from behind (probably because I didn’t have to look her in the face), and even then, with the emotional negativity it was difficult at times. I recall one day, and this was hard for me to admit for a long time, that during one session of intercourse, I remember being on top of her, and for whatever reason the thought of her friends’ boyfriend (who I had become friends with) crept into my mind. I think at the time, I was just trying to distract myself from having to try and look her in the eye. The thought wasn’t sexual in nature. I didn’t imagine myself penetrating this person. However immediately positive emotions began to come over me, and I didn’t feel empty or hollow, but more so, regular to a degree. Sex felt (emotionally) like I’d remembered and this was most disturbing to me. Was the thought of another man making me feel good during sex?

I spent the most of that session and many after exploring the possibility, but I realized that it wasn’t the idea of having sex with another man, that made me feel good (emotionally) but rather, just the thought of them in general. Like I was disconnected from any positive feelings, but when I thought of other males, they returned. This was all too confusing to me. I took some time doing serious soul searching, and that meant web searching, forcing myself to watch homosexual pornography to see if this was what I was interested in now. Though I didn’t want to accept that I might be gay, I thought that it would be best ultimately to try to accept it if I were. Admittedly, I didn’t understand my response to what I saw. My emotions soared, but physically I wasn’t aroused in the least bit. In fact, I would say that I was the very much the opposite. It is a very strange sensation being emotionally open (especially after having been shut down for so long prior to), while being completely sexually turned off. I didn’t know what to think. Moving on, my relationship lasted for the better part of six months after the initial break up. I struggled with who I was, but found myself using my ‘trick’ to help with positive emotions during sex. This confusing time in my life didn’t really do wonders for myself as a whole and I still found that I was mostly depressed, confused and angry at what had happened/was happening to me. Then, one day my girlfriend told me she’d landed a job that would require her to move away for some time. We spoke about us staying together, and a future when she returned, that would likely end in marriage, but when she finally left, I found the courage to explain to her that I just wasn’t happy, so we broke it off for good.

Still unsure of myself, and who I’d become, I spent the next summer trying to move on, which in male terminology, means trying to find the next woman. I spent many nights, with ‘the next woman’ and more often than not, they were drunken nights. I fought depression and hopelessness for a long time, praying to find a girl that would fix everything and set my life straight again, but nothing changed. Around this time, a good friend of mine from high school contacted me and told me that he was to be married, and that I was invited to be a part of the wedding party. I was enthralled by the idea. Fast forward to a month later, and there I am at the wedding party meet-and-greet. I spent the night talking to everyone else in the party, and most conversations went something like this, “I just finished this program and am starting my new job…” or “I’m going back to do my Master’s in this...” And so on and so forth. I had nothing impressive to respond with, having not finished my program in University. Admittedly it made me feel terrible. With what I’d been going through for the past couple years at that point, combined with being tough on myself to begin with, hearing about everyone’s successes made me hate myself that much more. It did however have a positive residual effect on me. I decided that I was going to move out of my parents’ home, get a job in the big city, and thus qualify for government funding so I could go back to school. Sounds like a plan to be proud of right? In theory it was.

I completed parts one and two of my plan. I landed a bar job at a very popular and lucrative establishment, moved in with my aforementioned best friend (the one who my ex stopped me from going on a trip with) who’d been going to school in the city, and thus qualified for a school loan. However I got caught up in the sights, sounds and seduction of the city life. I was making more money than I ever had, and made many new friends; a lot of whom were very attractive waitresses. Now, I should make something clear. Regarding sexuality, I still acknowledge when a woman is attractive, and still remember what I was attracted to when I was what I consider to be ‘whole’, so I also check them out whenever I deem appropriate. Most often this proves to be pointless as I feel nothing really, but every once in a while, I’ll get the expected sexual attraction and correlating emotions. To be clear, this doesn’t mean ‘happy feelings’ but rather just sexual arousal. With the current uncertainty of who I am, I in turn also check out males on occasion to see if finally for whatever reason I have in fact become homosexual. I’ve never been met with any sexual responses, however, as before, I do get these ‘happy’, ‘open’ feelings which after having read some of the information on your site, I feel might be closer to romantic? Anyways, back to the story. I spent almost three years in the city. I courted many of the waitresses; sometimes on fleeting sexual connections or just in hopes of ‘fixing myself’, and sometimes just thanks to intoxication. I actually found out that, on truly rare occurrences, once in a while when I’m intoxicated, all of my ‘hang-ups’ go away and I’ve been able to have romantic, intimate moments with a few women. During those brief moments, I’ve felt alive again. The next morning however, things are always back to the way they were before the alcohol. Sometimes worse in fact, because there have been occasions where more intimacy came up the next day, and instead of delivering, I would be consumed by panic and forced to either make excuses, or speedy exits.

While having these flings made me feel temporarily better, overall I was digging myself into the worst bout of depression I’d ever faced. It was then, for the first time, I contemplated suicide. I want to express that I would never follow through on these thoughts as I view them to be the most selfish act one can carry out, but I do most certainly understand them. During those dark times of hopelessness, sleeping was the best part of my day because I was at peace, if only for a time. Being logically minded, the next step in my thought progression was, “It would be great if I could just sleep forever”, and of course this just alluded to suicide. Towards the end of my time spent in the city, I’d landed a position with a company that could have flourished into a successful career, however was let go because of personal matters during my probationary period. This was my lowest point. I was on my way back to my apartment, standing at a subway platform when I thought to myself, “If I we’re ever going to do it, this would be the time”, imagining jumping in front of the next train. Admittedly the idea of not having to deal with life anymore was very tempting, but I was thankfully adamant about not following through. I didn’t see my decision as cowardice, but rather one that stemmed from the love I have for my family. I would never want to put them through something like that.

Anyways, I got in contact with my parents and informed them of what had happened and eventually we decided that moving home and starting over was my best option. I did so, and during this time I decided to reach out to my mother. I can only describe her as one of the sweetest and most nurturing (sometimes overly so) of women, and so I felt I could confide in her and attempt to make her understand what I was going through. I don’t think that many people go through what I believe I am, so fully understanding wasn’t possible, but she did what she could to help. She was horrified that I’d considered suicide and begged me to go to the hospital to see someone for help. I was so indifferent towards the matter at this point that I didn’t resist her request. I spoke with a doctor who in turn decided to prescribe me some anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills. I had never taken anything of the sort, but figured why not. I’ve been on and off medication a few times now, but am now at a point in my life that I believe I can resolve my issues without medication. During that time first period of time spent medicated, I met a girl who would later become my next serious girl-friend. She and I dated for over a year, but I eventually broke it off because I met a girl that I thought I’d finally felt some true, honest, romantic feelings for (which at that point, hadn’t happened in close to 6 years). The girl I left her for unfortunately didn’t live in my country, and as such it made any attempts at a relationship impossible. This girl returned with work some time later, but the feelings weren’t there anymore.

This brings us (roughly) to where I’m at today. I’m 26, going on 27 years old and have been dealing with these issues of mine for the better part of 7 years, and really most of my adult life. I’ve done extensive research into my issues, have been medicated, quit, am now seeing a psychiatrist (which has helped thoroughly), and am for the most part no longer deeply depressed. I will admit that each day is an entirely different experience for me emotionally, but my core problems remain, I just don’t let them get me down as much. I feel like my life is passing me by, and I’m not truly living. There was a time when I felt like the king of the world, was passionate, driven and ambitious, and I’d like to get back to that feeling, but I don’t believe I’ll be able to until I truly deal with my personal problems. I am deeply confused because I believe I have become homo-romantic, but am still strongly hetero-sexual. I’ve come here, in hopes that some of you may have dealt with similar issues and can shed some insight, or at least want to try to help. I still have hope that I can in fact work everything out, but I’ll be honest in that this is one of my last resorts. I am happy that I’ve found this community because at the very least, I’ve been able to find others who struggle as I have, when most of my life feels like alienation and isolation. I’m sorry that this has been a bit of a novel, but as you can see I’ve held most of this in for nearly a decade now and that’s mentally exhausting. Truthfully I’ve cut out a lot in an attempt to highlight what I feel to be important. For those who took the time to read all of this, thank you and to anyone with any help, a thousand ‘thank-yous’. Finally, to anyone reading this, also in duress, I wish for you peace, and at the very least, a bright and beautiful day.


I will admit, I skimmed through a lot of your writing, but I think this sums up what you are saying, yes?

I am deeply confused because I believe I have become homo-romantic, but am still strongly hetero-sexual.

Coming out (as homo or bisexual) can be a deeply painful (and sometimes fatal) experience...however, I don't think it meets the criteria for PTSD. There are a ton of resources that can help you with this journey...I'm not sure this is one of them.

I am being as kind as I can here...and am now leaving this thread.


I skimmed much of it as well, but perhaps you could tell us what it is you're hoping to find on this board. In your post I really don't see anything that indicates PTSD. Unless I missed something. Which is possible.

Just to be really clear though, struggling with sexual orientation does not constitute a trauma and simply wouldn't allow for a PTSD diagnosis.

I hope you get whatever help you need.
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New Here
So, basically you're a misogynistic fratbro who realized you might be gay and (according to the fratbro code) this is the worst most horrible thing ever because OMG NO HOMO so you decided it must be trauma and you must have PTSD because you're a special snowflake. I'm not sure who you insulted more in this endless word-vomit: PTSD sufferers, gay people, people who speak English, or your ancestors.


I don't see anything in your writing to indicate you have PTSD (unless I missed something). It is possible, however, that you may be suffering from OCD. There is a type of OCD (HOCD) where the person is obsessed with the thought that they might be gay or bisexual.

Just to be very clear: There is nothing wrong with being gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, pansexual, asexual, questioning, gender fluid, etc. I have to admit as a woman, a PTSD sufferer, and as a straight ally of LGBTQ community I was a bit taken aback by your post.


So, basically you're a misogynistic fratbro who realized you might be gay and (according to the fratbro code) this is the worst most horrible thing ever because OMG NO HOMO so you decided it must be trauma and you must have PTSD because you're a special snowflake. I'm not sure who you insulted more in this endless word-vomit: PTSD sufferers, gay people, people who speak English, or your ancestors.


There's just really nothing left to add.
Okay, before this goes any further. I appreciate those who had the decency to be kind in their responses. If skimmed through, which essentially some of you have, my issues could look to be summed up as you put it Poetic, but as I've said I think my problems truly stem from the trauma I went through for years during a developmental point in my life. You may not agree with what my struggle is about, but at the end of the day, I deal with many of the symptoms that I've read about regarding PTSD which is why I think when I initially found this site, I'd found something I could relate to. Obviously, I've found the wrong forum to voice my worries and I'm sorry to have offended anyone. I'm more sorry however that there are those of you out there, such as yourself Poetic, who are judgemental pricks who are quick to insults to people they don't know. I'm going to stop using this service now, so if a moderator could lock this, or even delete this post, that'd be great. Thanks.


@James Saint Anthony

Welcome and I am going to cut to the chase and ask when you were diagnosed with PTSD or are you undiagnosed? However, regardless of the diagnosis, when people find themselves struggling with issues such as anxiety, depression, self-harm, etc. and it is impacting their daily lives and relationships, it is a good idea to see a mental health professional as knowing what is wrong is the first step in making it right.


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Honestly I skimmed it. I was becoming too angry to keep a rational mindset about your "issues". Though I am inclined to agree with @intothelight. You would benefit from therapy.

@poeticmotion Couldn't have said it better myself. :tup:

@James Saint Anthony
How were you expecting this to go over? If you really thought you would receive sympathy for being extremely offended because a child called you gay, at a time in your life when you likely didn't even know what the dangly thing between your legs was used for. Nope, sorry.

Also how is taking advantage of a drunk girl when you said yourself, that you were only intoxicated, yet still with it. This is not moral fortitude, it is moral turpitude.

Now for my tidbit of actual genuine advice. If you can't control your actions when drinking, put down the bottle. "I'm sorry honey, I was drunk." Is a piss poor excuse.


@James Saint Anthony , I also skimmed your post. The problem with that is I engage in "I know where THIS is going...." thinking, and maybe I don't. It was hard to sort out your point, is my point.

So, has it occurred to you that female humans might be "people" too? Because the only aspects of your relationships you talked about was sex. And a lot of the people you'll find here (male and female) have had the experience, in one way or another, of "being used". For sex, for other stuff. But being "used" and treated as an object, rather than as a person. Your post kind of had a "people are to be used" tone to it. At least to me it did. That might not have been your intent. But it might be something to think about.

Sorry you're having a rough time! Therapy can be helpful for lots of people. Even "normal" people.


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Ok, I read it.
I was too weak and selfish
I read your enitre post. You still are selfish, and shallow, and a few other things.

My actions had turned my sweet, kind, caring girlfriend into a completely paranoid head-case (funny to say coming from me, I know).
No it isn't funny, not at all.

What you did to this person is disgusting. Having read your post, I do not believe you are remorseful at all.

You are sick, you need more help than you are currently receiving. Get yourself help. Seriously, you also need to be honest with, well everyone. Alot more often than you are. When your mother said to check yourself in to hospital. That was probably the best advice you have ever received. You should listen to her, she seems to be concerned with your welfare.

I am done. This has me feeling rather unsettled, I will not be commenting further on this thread.
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