In the short time we’ve been together, my boy has come a long way in terms of accepting my non-monogamous nature. While he used to be totally against it, he’s now OK’d everything but anal intercourse. I can’t be more thankful to him for letting me be me. Unfortunately, despite my free pass, I can’t seem to escape the feeling that I’m a wretched human being for enjoying myself.
Since I started fucking, I’ve always just sort of fucked around. I wasn’t adverse to a committed, romantic relationship, but I wasn’t going to stress it. As long as I was getting dick and intimacy on the regular, I was cool. No matter how depraved (read: mutually beneficial/pleasurable) my sex was, I never felt a moment of guilt or regret – except when the sex was bad.
Now that I’m in a relationship, I’m doused with guilt every time I put someone else’s dick in my mouth. Don’t get me wrong, I still have fun, but it feels like I’m doing something wrong. I feel like I’m hurting my boy or violating his trust, even though he’s given his permission.
While my boy is OK with me having my fun, he doesn’t really want to know the details. That is a fair, reasonable and common request. Unfortunately, as a person who is terrible at hiding things, it’s causing me anxiety. It’s causing me to feel like the stability of my relationship is based on how well I can keep my boy in the dark.
Even though my boy has asked to stay out of these matters, I know knowing what I’m doing does not repulse him. Yet when I’m meeting up to do whatever with whomever, I feel like I can’t say anything more than, “I’m hanging out with a friend.” I’m terrified that saying anything closer to the truth will crush him.
My boy isn’t a wilting flower. I know that he won’t die from finding out details of the things I do. Regardless, I just can’t shake the feeling that he will. More accurately, I’m scared that if he finds out something he doesn’t like, he’ll leave me. For the first time, I have something to lose and it’s freaking me the fuck out.
I’m freaking out so badly that I’m actually feeling guilty for having sex. I’ve considered going monogamous, even though I think it’s as unnatural as Styrofoam and would kill my spirit. The joy and excitement I get through my physical exploration of other humans is a major part of who I am. It’s something that really matters to me and something I feel should be shared. I’m not mad or resentful, but I’m certainly internalizing my boy’s apprehension as an indictment of my character.
I’ve talked to him, and he’s reassured me that he’s made peace with it because he knows I’m not going anywhere – it’s just sex and communion. I told my brain that, and it took a moment’s pause for dramatic effect then told me to fuck all the way off. It then proceeded to slut shame me for 20 minutes.
I don’t know what to do here. At this point, I’m hoping that, with time, I’ll be able ease my foot off the obnoxious, superfluous guilt pedal. It’s not exactly promising, but I suppose it’s better than hastily agreeing to a commitment I’ll regret and resenting him for “forcing” it on me.