I never felt less sexy than I do being married to an addict.
As a former bikini calendar model, I know first hand the power of sex.
I had always been that woman in the magazines that boyfriends and husbands would lust after. I felt good about my sexiness. I felt good about myself.
Then I married a sex addict.
Maybe it’s irony or karma. But it doesn’t matter what I call it — it equals pain. Crushing, drop-me-to-my-knees pain. The kind of pain that rips apart my self-esteem.
It didn’t matter anymore if other men desired me. I just wanted my husband to desire me and only me. But he didn’t. He doesn’t. He desires other women in bikini calendars, magazines … and ultimately online porn.
As a little girl, I always loved playing dress-up and pretending here was a prince who was coming to save me because he thought I was the most beautiful girl in the world. Maybe that’s part of what drew me to modeling — the longing as a woman for men to pursue, to fight for and to desire me.
It’s not that I was living in a fantasy or wishing for the fairytale happy ending. I wanted someone to think I was precious and beautiful enough that they needed no one else.
But you don’t get that when married to a sex addict — at least not until he’s in recovery.
The biggest irony for me, as a former model, I was (maybe still am) the object of other men’s fantasies, just not my husband’s. Other women occupy that place in his mind. I give him the real thing, both visually and sexually, not because I’m trying to “win” his attention over porn. That’s just who I am and who I’ve always been.
You may think I sound conceited or full of myself, but I’m really not. I have flaws. All women do. I’m simply stating facts. I’m desired, wanted and fantasized about by men I’ve never been with nor ever want to have. But the man I desire, want and am sexually attracted to fantasizes about other women.
It’s a rude awakening to really think about my life and modeling coming full circle like this and kicking me in the ass.
I want to go back to sleep and forget the last few years ever happened but I can’t. I have to face the wreckage of my choices and of his choices. I have to hope that maybe one day soon I’m the woman who occupies my husband’s thoughts and fantasies. I don’t want to share it with other women.
For more information about Compulsion Solutions, or to get help for sex addiction, visit the website.
This article was originally published at compulsionsolutions.com. Reprinted with permission from the author.