A funny note about myself. For the vast majority of my life, rightly or wrongly, I believed that – I created the reality that – the only way a woman would find me attractive was if I paid her. In the last couple of years, I’ve traveled in the opposite direction, becoming convinced, for the most part, that I’m attractive and desirable (if a bit of a freak).

But I notice that, as my mood ebbs and flows, I can track my mental well-being by where I stand on the spectrum that runs from thinking I should pay for sex at one end, to thinking it should just flow to me, at the other.

When I’m feeling good, the idea that I would pay for sex is truly absurd. Not that I don’t understand it, but that I’m in touch with the ways in which it’s destructive to me. And then, when I’m feeling bad? In the snap of a finger, I’m back to the depths of my compulsive, dark days, not just being able to imagine paying for sex, but imagining that doing so will bring me relief from whatever ails me.

Thankfully, I have a lot of tools today that I didn’t have then, not least, this blog. Which isn’t to say I’m in the clear, only that I have a better shot at experiencing that pull and observing it, rather than acting on it, than I ever did before. Thanks for helping with that.

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