Preface
So, I guess this one is going to be a heavy one, or perhaps I just think I’m going to be deep. I had a sexual experience for the first time in a while, though this time it was accompanied by a horrifyingly heavy bout of dissociation. During and after sex I was thrown into a horribly uncomfortable detachment from “myself”. To make things easier (and for privacy), I’ll refer to the friend I had sex with as “Ace”.
Open Relationships
Various relationships I’ve had exposed me to some interesting ways to think of intimacy, relationships, sex, and other things. I won’t beat around the bush, Ace isn’t my partner, and some people may consider that cheating. Some people may think you can only love and be intimate with one individual and that intimacy is black and white. Some of the people I’ve had relationships with made me challenge these ideas. Also I’m currently in an open-relationship.
I personally don’t think love and intimacy are black and white, I prefer to think of them as spectrums. The love you have for a best friend perhaps isn’t the same as the love you have for your partner, but it’s still something strong that bonds you two together. I suppose having mostly open-relationships has caused me to have this view. I suppose I justify having sex with Ace by the measure of how attached I am to him. I’m never as attached to Ace as much as I am attached to my partner. I may cuddle, kiss, have sex with Ace, very much-so like I do with my partner, but the degree of intimacy is vastly different.
Reflection
It’s been 5-6 days since I last started writing this post, and I’ve had even more time to think back on my experience. I now realize I can blame no one but myself for the way I had felt. Even though dissociation is usually out of my control, I could’ve done things to make the experience more pleasant. Perhaps this is wrong but, I feel if I had let myself be more intimate with Ace, then perhaps it would’ve helped me to cut through some of the “brain fog” that I was experiencing. Of course I realize this two or so weeks after, and now yearn to fix my mistake. Though realistically it’s not one I’ll probably ever get to fix, and will just have to be something I learn from.
Intimacy
I honestly wish I had put in more of an honest effort to be intimate with Ace, The rather mechanical nature of sex combined with the horrible side-effects of depersonalization sucked the enjoyment right out of the experience. The lack of kissing before sex probably led to me feeling more disconnected, something I honestly should’ve done, at the time I was nervous. Unlike previous sexual experiences where I had been riding an intoxicating euphoric rush, this was devoid of that. I also regret not telling him I love him. Words have always been hard for me, even with people I’m very close to. At times I get so anxious I feel like I physically can’t speak. I’m still learning and realizing new things to be honest, even though it happened what feels like so long ago now.
I suppose the worst part is, I probably won’t have another chance to make up for the mistakes I made with Ace. I suppose I shouldn’t let it haunt me, but the experience in general was just very traumatic. It has opened my eyes and made me think about my life quite a bit though. I began to realize things I hadn’t before, though perhaps that is for another blog post.
Dissociation and Sex
I suppose this will be a bit of a chronicle of the events that happened, and how dissociation played a role. I woke up in Ace’s bed, I had spent the night with him. I vaguely remember cuddling him and starting out with a bit of foreplay. At that moment, I didn’t feel dissociated what-so-ever, I wasn’t awake enough yet for my brain to kick in fully. After a bit of foreplay Ace and I stripped, he handed me a condom, I accidentally broke it while trying to put it on.
At that moment, It hit me, lightly at first but then like a train later. A flare up of DPDR. Ace helped me put a condom on and proceeded to lay down on his stomach for me. I adequately lubed myself and Ace up, crawling on top of him. I gently eased myself inside him and began slowly thrusting. At which point It became pretty much nothing but mechanical for me, I thrusted, moaned breathily, even girlishly moaned his name…but I felt no emotion. He was crying out and moaning my name, it was really cute but…I was able to enjoy none of it. I kept at it until he came, but wasn’t able to get myself to cum. After that I just pulled out and laid on my back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. My mind reeling from the intense flare up of DPDR, I was panting, the sensory fog was–like nothing I had felt before. I almost couldn’t talk…I was only able to mutter out simple replies. My mind had thrown me under the bus.
Even quite a while after sex, my mind was still retreated into a dissociative cocoon. I felt unsatisfied, regretful, and craved for affection. If I remember correctly, for the rest of that day I was just in this horrid hyper-dissociated state…barely able to talk. The only thing that kept me from crying was the sheer lack of emotion. I now realize I should’ve told him I was uncomfortable and I was having a DPDR flare up, and not have had sex right then. Instead I just pushed past it, thinking it was a bit of anxiety that would clear up. I ended up traumatizing myself for quite a bit and have learned a lesson. Even though it’s been what feels like so long ago now, I’m still realizing and reflecting upon new things. Don’t make the same mistake I did, if you have any type of mental health issue crop up during or before sex, and you want to stop, then stop. There’s absolutely no shame to that, your mental health is top priority.