I Had To Walk Away From The Best Sex Of My Life

Three years later and still nothing has come close.

Breaking up with mind-blowingly good sex is hard.

In fact, I deserve a goddamn medal!

Usually I write stories about my silent tears falling, the rumination, the falling to my knees, the hero’s journey to healing.

Today I just want to lament how much I miss the mind-blowing sex.

So sue me.

Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?

No?

Let me tell you.

Four months. And before that it was six months. Both times it was with someone who I liked but didn’t feel connected to. It served its purpose, put it that way.

I’ve always been plagued with feelings of missing my ex, even though I finally had to admit that he was toxic and not good for me at all (hence the walking away).

For the last couple of weeks, for some strange reason, my hippocampus decided to open the filo-fax labelled ‘Memorable Sex We Had’.

Out came all the greatest hits.

Since discovering that my ex has left the city to start a wonderful new life with his wonderful new girlfriend four months ago, I’ve been feeling even more gutted and left behind than I have in the last three years since I finally found the courage to leave him.

I’ve been on and off dating apps trying to meet someone that I can at least have an enjoyable fling with.

No luck at all.

I don’t know if I’m just putting the wrong vibes out into the universe (no doubt) or if there really are just no men that are my type who can also hold a decent conversation.

This has been a roundabout way of saying that I’m bloody horny and I can’t do anything about it except keep my vibrator well charged.

There’s just something so depressing about pulling out the sex toys on your own isn’t there?

When I was with my ex and we’d get the toys out it was exciting and playful and made me feel super sexy and desirable.

Now I just feel kinda sad and almost sheepish. And oh so grateful that he doesn’t know my plight.

I remember a year or so ago reading a Reddit thread on breakups and a few guys said that after they masturbated they thought of their ex and cried. I thought that was really weird and I felt sorry for them.

I am now one of them.

I have cried the last two times after using my vibrator because it reminds me of how amazing our sex life was and how I am basically living like an incel at the moment.

My ex and I had a really great connection. We made each other laugh, loved the same music, could talk all night. We both loved going to sports games, getting out into nature and spending time with each other’s kids.

And we both loved hot, intimate, playful, adventurous sex.

I’ve had lots of great sex in my life, but our sex life was by far the best. He told me I was the best too, but hey, he did lie about a lot of things so maybe he lied about that.

My ex also cheated on me, slapped me, gave me an STD, verbally abused me on several occasions and intentionally hurt my dog during an argument.

So I had to walk away. I had to give up all the good stuff because of the bad.

Sometimes I feel like god has played a cruel trick on me. He gave me all of those positive qualities wrapped up in a gorgeous, perfect (for me) package on the outside, and then turned him into a vicious monster who only had the capacity to hurt me when he was emotionally triggered.

I literally talk to god and ask what I did to deserve it.

To have it all, and then lose it all.

I tell myself almost every day that I will meet someone else, love and be loved again… yaddah yaddah..

I don’t really believe it.

I’m in limbo land now, because I’m too scared to love someone and thereby have amazing intimacy again. Yet, if I try to just have a casual fling with no feelings it’s just not fulfilling enough. I end up feeling empty.

It’s quite the conundrum.

I’ve spent the last three years trying to heal my codependency so that I don’t fall into another toxic relationship characterised by intense physical attraction.

Sexually, it feels like I’ve swallowed the red pill and gone from a colourful, exciting life to a grey, drab existence full of snot dinners and ripped rags for clothing.

This life is better for my nervous system, my productivity, my family, my highest good. I would never question it.

But every now and then I think back to those moments when I was physically held, loved, cherished and pleasured. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

Especially when I know that he is now experiencing all of that with another woman.

This is the part where you tell me that she’ll be getting all of his toxic traits too. Bless you for trying to make me feel better.

I’m kind of hanging out for the excellent news that their relationship has crashed and burned, but you never know. Maybe this really is the love of his life and they’ll live happily together while I live out my years sexless and sobbing over my toys forevermore.

Or maybe, I will meet someone intelligent and attractive who can make me feel safe, secure, loved and also give the best cunnilingus in town.

I live in hope.