Through the last few post about the different signs of porn addiction and my ability to see them for what they are, I often mentioned examples of when or how it was applicable. In this post I really want to get into the details of all of the times I had asked my husband to change his ways or habits for the sake of my happiness. At the time of these examples I had no idea that sex addiction was even a thing. I just knew that I wasn't happy in how our sexual relationship was going, and that it was very important to me. I just knew that there were these factors that I felt either wrongly contributed to our problem or at the very least did not help matters at all.
When we moved back to our home town from our college town, our sex life had already been down the drain for about a year. At this point I was so depressed about it that I had started cutting myself as a cry for attention. I wanted him to understand that him not giving me love hurt me. I wanted him to see the hurt. He used to cut himself when he was depressed in high school and I hated it. I did everything I could to make my best friend happy again. It eventually worked. I figured that if I did something he was familiar with, then maybe he would really understand that I was hurting because of it. Nothing changed.
The first time we moved out of our home state, our sex life had already gone down the drain for a little over two years. I was so sick and tired of not having sex, and his excuses about why he didn't feel in the mood, that I told him I wanted him to stop masturbating. I told him that since he doesn't feel in the mood often, then there's no reason why he couldn't hold out when he did and just have sex with me.
I'm really not 100% sure about this next part, but I think this was the place that he told me he wasn't sexually attracted to me any more. But like I said, I'm just not sure. Sometimes I think he must have told me before I started to cut myself, and that it was a direct cause. Other times I feel like it was in this last place, and yet still there are times that I can swear I remember it being in the next place we lived. I sometimes think this because I seem to remember him telling me, me going into shock, and then leaving the room he was in and walking next door to our bed room. I just don't know. It was too... I was too distraught I guess.
Any whoo... When we moved to the next state we lived in there was just the same situation over and over. I had already told him that I didn't want him P&Ming for the said reasons above. Instead of stopping, he simply began to hide it and lie to me about it. I can't seem to find any traces of me emailing him or myself about it and I don't really think I was a big google drive user at the time. There's not even anything in my secret blogs about it. Perhaps it was just such a common back and forth thing that... I didn't feel it was remarkable?
In addition to the lack of sex though, the quality had started greatly dropping. This I did find records of as well as harshly remember. There were often times in which we would begin to have sex and it just wouldn't work. His dick just wouldn't stay hard. I remember feel like such a disgusting piece of shit, and thinking to myself, "if I could just loose the weight...". I had started to go to the gym on average 5 days a week for absolutely no less than an hour of working out each time. There were even times that I would go both during my break at work and after words. I lost some weight, but it was just never enough. I was never "skinny" like the stick figure Asian girls he seemed to love watching so much. No matter what I did, even starting phentermine again, I just couldn't drop more than 20 pounds.
I also remember being so desperate for affection that I would dream, literally and wakingly, and even tell him aloud that I was going to find a boy friend who could fulfill my needs if he couldn't. I don't know if he just never took me seriously, or if he just simply didn't care, because he would never tell me not to say those things. He just really didn't know how close I was so many times to just sleeping with one of the random guys who would flirty with me just to feel good about myself.
We also had to go to marriage counseling once because I had just had enough while he was out of the country. Granted the biggest contributing factor was that he didn't put in an effort to simply make me a priority in his life, it really did stem (at least I believe through seeing things in hindsight) from the very issue of porn addiction and the consequent emotional withdrawal.
Sometimes I think trying to be the cool girlfriend who was OK with him watching porn early on in our relationship is a hugely contributing factor in how it had gotten so bad. So yeah, those three years were pretty much a nightmare. I loved him and I stayed with him, but I was constantly begging him to stop P&M.
When we moved here, everything was supposed to be different though. We had such high hopes, and kept talking about how everything was going to be different. It was a brand new place, and a fresh start. We were no longer going to be moving and we could finally settle down and have a family. We were going to be better at communicating and therefore happier in our marriage. What a dream to dream...
Instead what we got was just more of the same... but worse. I began being able to handle it less and less and to confront him about it more and more. The style of his taste was beginning to morph and it all started grating on me all the more.
I made a special ringtone for him very early in our moving here. It had been only a couple of months. I got his phone to transfer it over via blue tooth, and I went to find it so I could apply it to my contact. When I tried to find it, the file browser crashed and I couldn't. The file browser crazed because his phone was so jam packed with mobile porn. Selfies of young naked girls, and animated gifs. This about fucking killed me. A lot of the selfies were obviously from the same people, and I just instantly thought that it meant that he was chatting with random girls and saving their pictures. But, I didn't really want to believe it, so later when I confronted him about it-I was calm-I asked him where he got them all. He told me he trolled 4chan. He said that he would down load pages at a time and then delete every thing but the pictures. This made a lot of sense and I had much rather have believed that over the alternative. Before I said anything to him though, I checked his computer for the first time in a long time. What I found was much more of the same stuff. Pretty shocking stuff really, that even now is too hard to even type. The excuse for the collection was exactly the same. He just batch down loaded things.
Anyways, this particularly bothered me not only because of the selfies or the disturbing things, but because they strayed so far away from what I had come to expect from him. Thin little Asian girls. When it was thin little Asian girls I knew it was what he liked and that that would never be me. I'm not Asian. But then all of a sudden it was girls of little every shape, age, and color. Sometimes even girls with penises. Heebee Jeebees.
So, I sent him a long ass three part email about it after I had already asked him to delete it and he refused. I gave him the ultimatum that if he didn't choose to delete it when he got home with me present then don't bother even talking to me when he got home. I would take that as a sign to pack my shit and go.
This was a little over a year ago. Since then, the occurrences have gone down for the most part. Or at least he had gotten way more cognoscente of hiding it. He also began to finally start using the porn that he bought, though that didn't last long because it wasn't new and novel enough. Eventually after I thought things were getting better we had decided to try to have children. This was a pretty bit try, because I had to start undergoing fertility treatments. The first month, or maybe it was the second, of fertility treatments we only had sec twice during the 10 day window in which we were supposed to have sex no less than 5 times. I was so frustrated... so I looked, and sure as shit stinks...
After two months of this (disregard if I had said one month, I just double checked), I finally had a break down. I got really drunk at the bar while he was out or town, drove home through to most winded road, that was up a hill with no side rails. I didn't want to out right kill myself because I didn't have the guts, but I was damned sure putting myself in a good position for a bad accident on purpose. When I got home I pulled out my stash of razors that I hadn't touched in well over a year and went to town.
It was bad. So bad that I was scared enough the next day when I was in my right mind to call the doctor's office, and see if there was anything he could do for depression.
Since then it's still been happening. I've been seeing a therapist pretty regularly though, and it's been helping so I haven't been crazy depressed to that point again. Only one time and it was non porn related. For each new occurrence I've noticed that I started becoming indifferent about it. Almost as though it doesn't bother me any more. It still does. It's just that I think I had started to accept that there was no amount of begging or pleading I could do to change things. I started to feel like I was the one that needed to change... and that led me to feeling like that was stupid and instead I needed to figure out if I was strong enough to leave him.
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