u/Horror_George2206

I was with him 13 years.
The body stopped working somewhere around year 3. I started taking the pills. Stress, age, hormones, all the technically possible explanations. Took them eleven years.
The truth was I wasn’t attracted to him. Couldn’t say it out loud. Not to him. Not to myself either.
He found the pills once. Asked if I had a headache. I said yeah. That was the entire conversation. Eleven years.
Thought I was being a good partner. Showing up even when I didn’t feel it. He never asked me to be like that, that’s the part that still kills me. Just slowly erased myself because it was easier than having one hard conversation.
You build this guilt that just lives in your chest because something’s wrong and you don’t say it. You keep not saying it. After a while you forget you had anything to say.
Eventually we broke up. Reasons that had nothing to do with sex but also everything to do with sex if that makes sense.
First guy after him my body just. Worked. No pills. Felt almost insulting actually. Like wait, this is just what it’s supposed to feel like? After all that?
But here’s the thing I’m still stuck on. The performing thing didn’t leave when he did. With guys I actually want now the anxiety still comes back. I go somewhere else in my head while my body is right there. I recognize the feeling because I lived in it for over a decade.
So whatever this is, it’s still mine to deal with.
I’m in my mid-thirties. Tired. Just typing this out tonight because I couldn’t sleep and figured maybe putting it somewhere would help. It probably won’t but at least it’s out.

I was with him 13 years. The body stopped showing up somewhere around year 3 or 4. I took pills for it. Eleven years of pills.
Told myself it was stress. Age. Hormones. The kind of explanations that are technically possible.
Truth was I just wasn’t attracted to him. Couldn’t say it. Not to him, not to me.
He saw the pills once in the drawer. Asked if I had a headache. I said yeah.
That was the whole exchange about it. Eleven years.
We broke up eventually for reasons that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with sex if that makes sense.
First guy after him my body just. Worked. No pills, nothing. Felt like proof I hadn’t been broken, just stuck.
Here’s where I need help though.
The performing thing didn’t go away when the relationship did. With guys I’m actually into now, the anxiety comes back. Different shape. Same paralysis. I go somewhere else in my head while I’m physically there. Recognize it immediately because I lived in that place for over a decade.
So the wiring is still there. Just gets triggered by different stuff now.
Has anyone worked through this specifically in therapy? Not general “I went to therapy and it helped” but actual modalities. Somatic stuff, EMDR, sex therapy specifically. What worked. What didn’t. How long it took.
I’m in my mid-thirties and I really don’t want to spend another decade figuring this out the hard way.

ok I need to put this somewhere because keeping it in my head one more day is going to break me. and honestly I’m hoping someone here who’s older has actually figured this out because I clearly haven’t.

I’m 36. single 3 years. and the kicker is I literally write about this stuff. like for a living. rented intimacy, toxic patterns, why we keep doing it. I have a whole book about it lol
So last month I reconnected with someone from my past. I knew his history. I knew the red flags,all of them..went anyway. Because the alternative was another Sunday alone with my own thoughts and at some point that becomes its own kind of unbearable. like the silence in your apartment starts to feel like an accusation. We hung out a few times. started feeling something. told him. asked if he could be exclusive - he said “I’ll try”

and I just sat with that “I’ll try” like it meant something..it doesn’t…it’s not a yes. I KNEW that..stayed anyway

then this week he asks if he can watch another guy sleep with me. like that’s the conversation we’re having now. then makes plans and leaves me standing outside in the cold for 20 minutes. then two days later sends a long text about how nobody wants him. nobody. while I’m literally right there
And honestly the part that’s actually getting to me, I’m not even angry at him. I’m just so tired of myself.
Because I see this pattern. I can name it. I narrate it while it’s happening like some weird sports commentator in my head. and I still walked straight into it because I was lonely enough to take almost anything that felt remotely like warmth

so here’s what I actually need help with. for the guys here who used to do this and don’t anymore. how did you stop?
Not how did you intellectually understand it. that part I have. I mean what was the actual moment, the actual decision, the actual practice that made you stop walking into the thing you knew was wrong?
Is there a way to make loneliness less unbearable that doesn’t involve a guy? did therapy do it for you, or was it something else? did you have to be alone for a long time first? how long?

Because I’m starting to think the only thing standing between me and the next bad decision is not knowing what to do with a Sunday night alone. and that can’t be the whole answer for the rest of my life.

So there was this moment a few weeks ago that I keep coming back to

I Was With Someone. not a relationship, more like a situation that had been going on for a while. And we were having a genuinely good night — food, talking, easy. And at some point he said “I don’t know what I’d do without you”

And I Felt.. good. like REALLY good. warm in my chest, the whole thing

And Then About An Hour Later, lying there, I had this weird thought. He wasn’t saying he loves me. He was saying he needs me. And I had confused those two things so completely that hearing “I need you” felt like hearing “I love you”
I’m 36. I’ve been doing this for a long time apparently

The Thing Is, when I look back at every relationship that mattered to me.. the ones where I felt most “loved” were the ones where I was most needed. Where I was solving something, fixing something, being the stable one, the one who handled things. And the guys who just.. liked me, wanted to spend time with me, didn’t need saving — I found them boring. I LITERALLY found them boring and I couldn’t figure out why at the time. But I Think I Know Now. being needed felt like love because at some point that’s what love looked like to me. Someone reaching for you because they can’t manage without you. That’s the shape it took

And Here’s The Part That’s Hard To Sit With — I think I kept myself useful on purpose. Not consciously. But I would find ways to be indispensable. Pay for things, solve problems, be the one who remembers, who shows up, who gives more than asked. not because I’m a generous person (I mean maybe I am idk) but because on some level I understood that if I stopped being useful, the “love” would stop too

And I Was Right. it always did

I Don’t Know What To Do With This Yet honestly. like knowing the thing doesn’t automatically fix the thing. I still feel the pull when someone needs me. I still light up in a way I don’t when someone just.. enjoys me
I’m Still Working Out The Difference between a relationship and a job I volunteered for.

anyway. that’s where I am with this lately