Often, social anxiety can seize me simply because, frankly, I’m often so sexual that 1) due to repressing my erotophilia, I experience a bit of OCD and think overwhelmingly about sex, 2) I worry that it’s “written all over my face,” as if I were blushing, and that it might make someone feel uncomfortable.
Don’t let her see in your eyes how sexually attracted you are to her
That’s why I sometimes purposely hide my eyes from a woman I find exciting and attractive. I also wonder if I am “highly sensitive.” When my eyes catch a glimpse of a woman whose beauty and vibe captivate me, I feel as though I were a reverent painter who painted fashion pictures (I have an absolute fetish for artistically designed, and well-worn clothes), nudes, and depictions of erotic sex, and that I would just love to paint pictures of this woman in her clothes, without them, and while fucking. (I suppose my father has impacted me very profoundly since this was his passion aside from his work as a psychotherapist. He would fill the walls in his house with photographs.) There’s also an element of curiosity, wanting to know “what she might be like,” sexually. (At which point, the guilt often kicks in, and I process the feeling, trying to make sure I’m not objectifying.)
There’s some research on people (HSP’s; “Highly Sensitive Person”—a term that refers to “high sensitivity” as an apparently distinct personality trait, which was coined by the psychologist Dr. Elaine N. Aron, who has researched and written on the trait for a quarter of a century) who are allegedly more “sensitive” than the average person. Dr. Aron’s book and description of HSP’s resonate with me, so I believe I am an HSP. I think I am “highly sensitive” both physically and psychologically.
I can’t tolerate carnival rides; when I see snow, I get overexcited like a kid and need to walk in it, and my “heart” feels “fluttery”; good art and writing sometimes makes me cry (a few weeks ago, for example, I cried while listening to Bob Dylan), politics also makes me cry (back in the summer of 2016, I cried because the lack of civility between Trump and Clinton was so disturbing [to be clear, Clinton is an ANGEL compared to Trump, so far as my opinion is concerned. It was not a matter of the two candidates being equally bad. Rather, Clinton was not, in my opinion, a candidate who seemed in touch with the voting population, or the liberalization of much of the Democratic party; she was “more of the same” at a time when Trump and Senator Bernie Sanders and their success made it clear that the style of politics and politicking and campaigning was in need of change]). I worry sometimes that I’m over-zealous, excessively passionate, and idealistic also, such that my emotions and idealism kidnap my reason and blaze on like a cruise ship; my bullseye dart throwing sort of focus hitting something far from the dartboard.
When it comes to my “high sensitivity” regarding sex…well, sex is one aspect of life where my hypersensitivity most intensely overwhelms me.
Literally overwhelmed by love for sex and sexual sensitivity
Sometimes I get very easily aroused…too easily, I often fear. (How awkward, for example, when a woman was just so attractive to me that I would get an erection in the midst of conversation, and think to myself “fuck! This is distracting and not the time or place!”) Other times, I can feel so overly emotional that I can’t… you know… “get it up.” (Or I get paranoid that I won’t be able to get hard when necessary or that my erection will suddenly go away. One reason this happens is that I’ll feel too excited and somewhat intimidated—usually when trying a new position. I wonder if this also might happen because of guilt and periods of low self-esteem. Sometimes, when fucking gets really raw, hard, fast, and the romance dissipates into wild lust, I get tinges of guilt, once again worrying that I’m objectifying her in my mind or that she’s feeling used.)
The intensity of my sexual thoughts and feelings cannot be attributed merely to my sensitivity. I also genuinely feel an utter love and passion for sexuality (sexuality is my “happy place” and a major source/expression of my spirituality) which for over half a decade I have not only tried to repress, and felt depressingly guilty/immoral/ “perverted” for, but which I also tried to deny.
It’s further complicated by my polyamory. The very thought of being free to make love to multiple partners turns me on. (The thought of monogamy turns me off.) Because I feel this freedom, I feel, also, compelled to explore the miracle that is a woman’s soul and body, a piece of life, of universe, of intimacy, humanity!) This is something about myself I’d been in denial for as long as I can remember (until just a few months ago).
In other words, I’ve held a lot inside, so to speak, insulted myself for it, thus stressing myself out a lot, and so, I have felt at times, generally spastic with unexpressed, unreleased energy– like a Mexican jumping bean! (Do you remember those things?)
I wasn’t always this way—radically ashamed and in denial of my passion for sex. I used to write richly explicit erotic stories and vlog about my passing thoughts on sex—broadcasting it all quite flamboyantly, on Facebook. Sex was one of my most predominant themes. I filled a self-published book with sex, sex, sex, and more sex! And I was working on a second. The book didn’t sell, and the second one, I ultimately trashed. That was when I just detached myself from writing at all and started vlogging about sex. And then I discovered the philosophical writings of Ayn Rand, and took some extremely bizarre (and most unfortunate and mortifying) intellectual and psychological turns.
When and how within this phase of bizarre mental shifting did I come to suddenly disown my love for sex?
Corrupted– the mortifying Christian, Libertarian/Republican phase
Funny. I actually forgot about this until writing about it now: I went through a brief Christian phase and systematically converted myself towards more “conservative” positions on certain things, like sex! Indeed, I recall speaking to a pastor about my awful obsession with sex. The pastor said that this happens to some people, this pastor claiming to be included in this group, and that one has to just try to live with it and be decent.
This was a strange time in my life, one which makes me CRINGE, when I recall it. I went through a Libertarian-Republican phase and ran for political office.
I think I had this paranoia that if I wanted to be a politician, I had to be a Christian and not openly discuss things like my erotophilia. But paranoia can really fuck with your head, at least in my case. You can BELIEVE that you have come to “BELIEVE” something and not even realize your own self-delusion. I mean, the craziest rationalizations somehow take the form of convictions, perhaps convictions that were disguised by your unconscious!
Perhaps a decent analogy is when we think we fall in love but either we really did not, or, in hindsight, we clearly should not have. I have my own experiences in that realm also. Perhaps one can suffer from such a low self-esteem that the mere fact that someone you’re attracted to claims she wants you to fuck her feels like such a damn unbelievable miracle…and must be love?
But anyway, I calculated that hiding my enthusiastic love for sex would land me a chance to work as a politician. (The fact that I actually thought, at least the first time around, running as a Libertarian, that I could win, shows you how oblivious to reality I was! I then ran independent, and then– it upsets me to admit, a Republican. I have since joined the Democratic party and disavowed the nonsense I used to think and spout.)
Oh, Wow! In that sense, politics genuinely corrupted me. I’m tempted to wallow in shame but that’s not nice or constructive. And it makes me feel less sexy. Meantime, I think I’m making up for it by talking out my thoughts and feelings on this sacred topic.