u/gtbreddit1

I don't care that "there is more to life than sex". There is more to life than drinking water, but if I don't drink water, I will die. Living without sex may not kill me, but it certainly condemns me to eternal misery. How is that any better?

Lifelong sexlessness infects every aspect of life. Outside of sex and relationships, I am actually more fortunate than most. But it is all for naught, because any joy or pleasure I would otherwise derive from those aspects is completely overwhelmed by the misery, anger and sadness I feel over missing out on sex.

I cannot think of a rational reason why I don't kill myself. I know why I don't: I hold an animalistic fear of death. But that is not a rational reason. I have no rational reason.

If I saw someone else in my position and they asked me to give them one good reason why they shouldn't kill themself, I could not give them one. What would I give them? If I was in their position, I'd want to kill myself too. Then I realize, I AM in their position.

Censored some words because this got auto removed when I tried to post it before.

I have been in therapy before but I don't feel it helped me. However, this may have been because I was not fully honest with the therapist. Partially because I worried about being judged for what I felt, but also because whenever I would try to talk more honestly about my feelings she would almost become irate and put words in my mouth (eg "you don't actually feel X, it's more like you feel Y, right?"). It was as if she didn't want to believe what I was expressing.

I can't deny that I have very negative feelings about therapy, partially because I can't rationally see how it would help me (but putting that aside for now), but also because I fear a situation like I had previously but worse. I am in a considerably worse mental state than I was then, I would find it even harder to talk about how I feel now.

The thoughts I have are extreme. I am filled with h*te, I indulge in v*olent fantasies regularly, I think I no longer feel remorse. How do you go about finding a therapist willing to take on an extreme case? I feel like I am in a catch-22 where I have to be upfront about who I am so that the therapist knows what they're getting into, but I fear that by pitching around for a therapist and talking honestly about my issues that I risk having an involuntary hold placed on me or a visit from the police because I would sound a lot like Ell*ot R*dger. How should I go about this.

Tried posting this in askatherapist but it got removed for some reason.

I have been in therapy before but I don't feel it helped me. However, this may in part have been because I was not fully honest with the therapist. Partially because I worried about being judged for what I felt, but also because whenever I would try to talk more honestly about my feelings she would almost become irate and put words in my mouth (eg "you don't actually feel X, it's more like you feel Y, right?"). It was as if she didn't want to believe what I was expressing.

I cannot deny that I have very negative feelings about therapy, partially because I can't rationally see how it would help me (but putting that aside for now), but also because I fear a situation like I had previously, but worse. I am in a considerably worse mental state than I was then, I would find it even harder to talk about how I feel now.

The thoughts I have are extreme. I am filled with hate, I indulge in violent fantasies regularly, I think I no longer feel remorse. How do you go about finding a therapist willing to take on an extreme case? I feel like I am in a catch-22 where I have to be upfront about who I am so that the therapist knows what they're getting into, but I fear that by pitching around for a therapist and talking honestly about my issues that I risk having an involuntary hold placed on me or a visit from the police because I would sound a lot like Elliot Rodger. How should I go about this.

The anger and pain I feel over the fact that I have been denied sex for my entire life and the fact that I didn't get to experience sex once at all in my youth is intolerable. I regularly have episodes where I feel sharp pains in my chest and my arms feel light and numb. The only thing that helps me is fantasizing about killing people. I have extended, elaborate fantasies about killing people. Sometimes they are cartoonish, like I imagine myself as Homelander and I level a city, then threaten to level another if the world doesn't give me hot women to have sex with. Other times they are more grounded, like I imagine punishing society by doing a mass shooting before killing myself on the day I finally decide I have nothing left to lose. In my fantasies, nobody is spared. I target the most vulnerable to incur the maximum degree of suffering on society. These fantasies help me get through particularly painful episodes because I escape into a fictional reality where I feel I have been delivered some measure of justice. There are two aspects to my pain. The first is the injuries I have already suffered. The experience of my life thus far at 31 years of age. My youth has come and gone, and I didn't get to experience sex once. I think about the countless number of cute girls I've known and met and come across throughout my life who I felt attracted to, none of whom felt attraction to me. It feels so gravely unjust to me that everyone else gets to experience mutual sexual interest, but I don't. For some reason I have been designated to be denied that experience. When I think about this, rage and anger wash over me. The second aspect is the fact that there is no light at the end of the tunnel for me. As I get older, I get even uglier. My hair gets thinner, my face sags further off my underdeveloped facial bones. There is zero evidence to indicate that there is any chance I'll meet a cute girl who wants to have sex with me. ZERO. There is no path to happiness for me. Let me say that again THERE IS NO PATH TO HAPPINESS FOR ME. I want society to answer what it expects me to do when THERE IS NO FUCKING PATH TO HAPPINESS FOR ME. How am I not supposed to think about destroying other people's lives before ending my own when there is zero chance I will ever be glad to be alive. Explain that to me. Society expects me to just sit here and accept the dogshit hand I was dealt... for what reason exactly? FUCKING GIVE ME SOME FUCKING ANSWERS. THERE IS NO PATH TOHAPPINESS FOR ME. SOCIETY NEEDS TO GIVE ME SOME FUCKING CUNTING FUCKING ANSWERS

Something that has driven me crazy my whole life (I'm 31) is how I only ever had women interested in dating me, never interested in hooking up. Now I wasn't really interested in most the women who were interested in me so it didn't make much of a practical difference either way, but still the fact that there were never any who wanted to hook up with me drives me insane.

One of the only ones I actually was interested in told me explicitly she wouldn't have sex with me unless we were officially boyfriend and girlfriend and would try to set sexual expectations low before we ever even met (I met her online). That's one of the things that killed any potential for a relationship there even though I genuinely liked her, I just couldn't get over the fact that she'd turn me down for casual sex.

How common is this? Nowadays I live a relatively solitary life so I'm not meeting women who are interested in me for either, but I do expect that if I put myself out there that I would meet some women who would want to date me (whether I'd be interested in them is another question I'm putting aside for the moment). However, it is nearly impossible for me to imagine a woman just wanting to have sex with me. This has greatly negatively affected my sexual self esteem. If a woman I found attractive indicated she wanted to hook up with me, I would be put in a state of elation. That would probably be the happiest day of my life. It is just impossible to imagine that ever happing.

Weekdays I work full time, so my job keeps my mind occupied for most of the day. And the external pressure of rent/bills forces me to continue working even when I don't want to.

When the work day ends and my time is my own for the rest of the day, my mental state gradually deteriorates into anger, rage, resentment. With nothing forcing me to focus on something, I typically end up ruminating on the fact that I've missed out on sex for my entire life. But I have to go to bed before it gets too bad, since I have to wake up for work the next day.

However, at the weekends, my time is my own entirely. And they feel like a fucking gauntlet. Two and a half days of nothing but thinking about everything I've missed out on. By the end I am usually engaging in psychotic fantasies to cope with the injustice of my life. I go to bed Sunday night with my heart pounding and adrenaline racing through my body. My arms feel light and fuzzy, I feel my pulse in my neck, the back of my head feels like it's burning up. I don't know how I make it through without having a complete mental breakdown.

Something I have a hard time wrapping my head around is the concept of celibacy being something someone engages in my choice. As in, they could have sex, but they choose to not have sex.

I have zero say in my celibacy. I have never had any say whatsoever in whether I am celibate or not. That decision was made for me by other people.

How is it possible that for some people, whether or not they have sex is something they choose? I cannot even imagine it. I live a life of misery because of something that other people choose based on whether they happen to be in the mood for it.

When I have a thought like this I feel anger and rage wash over me. When I think about the lives other people get to live in comparison to my own, my mind is filled with genuinely psychopathic thoughts. Why was I handed such a fucking dogshit life? Why does everyone around me get to experience pleasure while I am made to live in abject misery? How is that fair. FUCKING EXPLAIN TO ME HOW THAT IS FAIR. I feel ROBBED.

I genuinely do not know what else to do. I am so angry about missing out on sex. I feel like I am in a permanent state of grief. I am tired of feeling physically unwell. Some days I can bury my head in the sand and immerse myself in a game or a TV show well enough to not feel it, but other days it breaks through and I cannot focus on anything other than what I have missed out on.

When those days come, I just want to hurt and kill people. The only thing that brings me relief is thinking about killing people in the most brutal ways I can imagine. I imagine killing and torturing people in front of their families.

Engaging in these fantasies is the ONLY thing that brings me some relief. I feel so robbed of a life and like I have been made to endure a miserable adulthood devoid of hope for anything better. The only way I can cope with feeling so aggrieved is by delving into a fantasy world where I inflict endless suffering on others and deny them mercy when they beg for it so that they know nothing but suffering without any hope that it will ever end. Because that is what life is like for me, and in this fantasy it is what life is like for everyone else, and that feels like some kind of justice.

Occasionally, I experience moments of happiness or fulfillment. Usually relating to my work, as I work in a creative industry where I am stretched to the extent of my cognitive and artistic ability and the product of my work is often enjoyed and appreciated by others.

However, those moments are fragile, because if anything causes me to remember the fact that I don't get to have sex, those feelings leave my body and instantly rage and anger swell inside me. The triggers can be a coworker mentioning their girlfriend or simply seeing an attractive woman. I am so familiar with the feeling of a knot developing in my chest, my throat aching and my arms feeling light and tingly.

This is why it doesn't matter that "there's more to life than sex". What is the point in there being more to life if I'm prevented from enjoying any of it by lacking sex.

In fact these moments become my angriest, because I notice that I am being robbed not just of sex but of moments in my life that should be happy.