My Sexuality Archive

BPD, Asexuality, and Open Marriages

Posted March 13, 2015 By kmarrs

Ok so I’m asexual and yet I need an open marriage?

I’ve touched on this a couple times, but I might as well complete the series with this.

See, when I fall, it’s for who a person is.  Their personality.  Character traits.  Inner being and beauty.  As such, I tend to fall for my closest friends, especially if I white knight them.  Now, as I’ve gotten older I’ve done this less and less because I’ve learned that more often than not it’s a BPD reaction, and not true love.  Oh, I mean I truly love the friend, but I’m not in love with them.  However, when I’m caught off guard, and I’m not happy with Pat, which happens in a marriage with two mentally ill people, I tend to deny to myself that I’m only white knighting someone, and throw my marriage to the dogs to try to be with them.

By opening the marriage, I’m less apt to sacrifice what I have with Pat, and more apt to listen to his logic and reason.  The logic and reason of someone who knows me all too well and isn’t emotionally attached to the person I think I love.  If I do fool around some, it’s within the guidelines of the marriage.  Though, this happens less than you think.  However, asexual or not…

I’ve never found myself to be much of anything.  So when someone pays me the right kind of attention when I’m at my lowest point, I tend to, I don’t know, want to please them.  And how do men want pleased?

There is one, and only one, noted exception to this.  One case that is true love and not BPD love for me. (Besides Pat, I mean.)  And while the rules of the marriage being open are actually a case by case basis, this person will always be the exception.  He is the man that… when I think of him my chest tightens.  I can’t breath.  He is this man.  He was a close friend I really did fall for.  True love because he is beautiful.  The most beautiful soul you could ever hope to meet and trustworthy with a fragile heart. He cares about me more than just about anyone ever has, and it’s always been for the sake of caring about me, not to get anything out of it, except maybe mutual caring.

Aside from him, really, I don’t know that I care to be out there with my heart or sex life.  I don’t feel the need for an open marriage on my end, because no one else outside of my marriage can compare to “him”.

Meanwhile I’m also participating in an open marriage because in the event of Pat’s lady being in town, I honestly want him to be able to be with her.  I recognize that she can take care of some of his needs that I can’t.  Being asexual and all.

Either way, this isn’t all so I can sleep around.  I don’t do that and never have.  I have no opinion on others who do/have.  It’s just not who I am and therefore not why my marriage is open.  I’m too asexual for that.  But I’m also too BPD to not need an escape hatch that doesn’t cut me off from my marriage.

I’m done hurting my marriage for stupid ass BPD white knights when Pat would rather I just flirt and get it out of my system anyway.  Besides, for all the white knights I’ve had, I’ve only slept with 2 of them in 31 years. (This isn’t counting Pat whom wasn’t BPD love but was indeed my only other documented case of true love.)  The other one I actually dated for a couple of years before Pat and before I realized what an ass he was.

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How My BPD Effects My Asexuality

Posted March 12, 2015 By kmarrs

asexual and BPD Borderline Personality DisorderI will never, ever say my mental health has any factor in me being asexual, panromantic, or a demi-girl. Just as my sexuality (and crew) doesn’t make me BPD, bipolar, anxious, or any of it. There is no correlation between the two, but one will sometimes affect the other. So let’s be clear: it’s not a cause and effect, but there is a deviance exception.

See, people who have BPD are known for being impulsive, including in bed. In addition, people who are in a manic can be a bit hyperactive with sex. So while 90+% of my life I’m asexual to the point where I consider sex really gross (aka I’m what’s known as sex repulsed), I make an exception for Pat because he wants it and there is a heightened emotional connection and blah blah blah.  It’s still really ew, though, in general. I mean, you are putting one nasty dirty part inside another nasty dirty part and then swapping fluids filled with bacteria. And then some people? Put mouths down there? Makes me kind of want to vomit. And by kind of I mean OMG you people are freakin’ unsanitary! Dear lord do your mothers know! No, that’s NOT how they became mothers. There used to be storks. Ew.

So yeah, I’m asexual. Because sex is gross. Even kissing is gross. That’s how you catch the plague.

(No, I never have known how Pat puts up with me. This is only one or two items on a super long list.)

So uh. Then this thing happens where I become super unstable. I don’t just mean a little unstable. I mean throw my marriage to the curb so I can maybe fuck other man and/or women, unstable, and I all but become a whore. Now. In reality, I can count on 1 hand the number of people I’ve slept with and I’m officially up to two hands for the number of people I’ve kiss. But for me? That’s sleeping around. I mean seriously. It never really is about numbers. There are people with 10 times as many ex-partners and I wouldn’t call them whores. Not even behind their backs. But me adding a notch to my bedpost when I’m single? That is me going out of character. The fact this last time I kissed 4 different men which is doubling my earlier count… I actually dislike kissing more than sex. That’s your germs in my mouth. Black Plague.

Ok.  So failed attempts to be humorous aside, while my sexuality doesn’t cause my mental health and my mental health doesn’t cause my sexuality, it’s still relevant because one has, and probably will again, affected the other. Only this time my marriage will be open so I don’t have to sacrifice the man I actually love to kiss another dude. Or dudette.

Also, as I grow more comfortable with the labels it took me 30 years to find, I want to write them out as it makes them whole. And if any of you can relate with any of it… well there are a lot of people out there far less complicated than me, so anyone I can relate to when it comes to gender and asexuality especially, I could use the company in my lonely corner.

We can discuss the black plague.

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When Sexualities Collide

Posted March 11, 2015 By kmarrs

Sexuality and BPD and marriageThere is of course a downside to the match made in the stars, that is Pat and I.  Can you guess it?  Ah yes.  I’m asexual and he is not.

Now, to be fair to me I am Asexual-grey so I do feel a sexual attraction to my husband, but my sex drive itself is hit and miss.  More than he’d prefer, that’s for sure.  I can’t blame him.  He is a fully functioning sexual being.  There is nothing wrong with being asexual, but it can complicate romantic relationships where the other person isn’t also asexual.

So, he works on patience with me and learns what can trigger my sexual appetite.  Not to take advantage of me, but to broach the subject.  He has always taken no for an answer.  Always.  Him trying to tempt me is never abusive nor nearing anything that could hint at rape.  However, he also knows that a 20$ or even a 10$ handed to me to go treat myself to books usually makes me very thankful.  I mean, if you’re going to buy my affections, books is the only way to do so.  Or maybe shoes.  But no.  Pat is the only one that can pull off that trick without receiving a throat punch.

In addition, I work on evaluating my situation.  Am I horny?  Yes?  Have sex.  No?  Ok, well does the thought repulse me?  Yes?  Don’t have sex.  No?  Consider having sex.  I don’t have to be OMG IN THE MOOD to be willing to show physical affection to my husband.  I just have to be willing to show physical affection.  In a sexual way.  There are various degrees of compromise; and sometimes we start and I’m just not into it, can’t get into it, so we stop.

But if he is willing to be patient, I’m willing to try for sexual more often.  I don’t find it degrading or him being disrespectful.  If he refused to acknowledge my lack of sexuality or pressured me into it when I’ve said no, that would be an insult.  This isn’t even me caving to my wifely duty.  This is me loving my husband.  And sometimes I agree to love him physically even if I think I’d be ok never having sex again.  When it comes down to it, well, if nothing else, it’s great exercise, and it’s safe as we’re both clean, can’t get pregnant, and in love.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t frustrating for him at times that I can’t keep up with his desires.

For the record, this is one reason I suggested (didn’t agree to but suggested) an open marriage.  Granted, he only has one woman at this time he’d consider being with aside from me, and she isn’t local.  Should he meet someone local, we’ll reassess.  Mostly because I’d need to trust her and her intentions with my husband.  His unicorn, as we call our outside of the marriage loves, would never ever hurt me in being with him.  So I can trust them both fully, and this is essential.

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Sexuality marriage and BPDI, for so many years, have known my husband and me to be a complicated mix of male/female with neither one of us fully subscribing to our assigned gender. It’s one of the reasons I’ve always gone back to him when I’ve left: I know no one else can complete me like he does.

With the post on my sexuality still pending, I had him read it and then asked him to expand upon what he thought his gender alignment to be. After a long talk it came to the agreed up conclusion that the old joke that “he is a lesbian trapped in a man’s body”, was not far from the truth.

You see, he really is at this point transgender. He was assigned male at birth, but relates more to the female gender. He’s not going to bother with a sex change, though, because he’s never seen a point, and he has a wife who is happy to let him be his inner woman. His sex organs are what they are, and as for “he/him” as his pronouns, he’s too lazy to bother caring or try to get us to change it.  Also, he doesn’t consider it insulting.  Never the less, he doesn’t really like being called a man, but he keeps that battle inside, and is glad “Pat” is so androgynous.

Should he have gone through the change, he would for sure be a lesbian. And no, that does not just make him a straight man. True gender is in the heart, not the parts.

Meanwhile there is me who doesn’t really feel like a woman, but doesn’t really feel like a man either. I’m not agender.  I’m just me; a mostly woman with definite girl parts, but both male and female feelings and character traits. I’m just me; a panromantic, asexual, demi-girl, and I love my lover no matter the parts or pronouns.  Because Pat completes and complements my gender in a way no one else could.  We were able to give each other children.  He is strong where I’m weak.  I’m strong where he’s weak.  Put us together and we are whole and one in a million.

For any number of things could have preventing us from meeting at that LARP game that Friday night. Instead, the stars aligned, the heavens took over, we met, we became friends, we feel in love, and we became what each other needed in a lover.

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Sexuality of a Misfit

Posted March 9, 2015 By kmarrs

asexuality and Borderline Personality DisorderNot that it really matters, but I have finally found a set of labels that I feel most comfortable with.  I say it doesn’t matter because I am married to a man that I choose to be married to and we are as happy as any couple with our combination of mental health issues can be, and then some.

Sexuality, however, does matter.  As does gender.  Not everyone fits into the straight boy/girl or LGBT labels society seems to be ready to push us into.  Hell, society is really only fully comfortable with the straight boy or girl part.  There are so many of them out there and so many of us trying to find what works best for who we are.  So I finally, at the age of 31, found what fits me.  I’ll even define them for you and explain how they fit!

Sexuality: Asexual Grey-A: I typically don’t experience a sexual attraction, but there are known exceptions to this, my husband of 12 years for one. Typically someone has to capture my interests intellectually or by other random and rare means before I’ll have any chance of experiencing a sexual attraction to them. Even then, I have a really low sex drive.

Romantically: Panromantic: I can love anyone. If I’m going to feel a sexual attraction to anyone, it is personality based, not at all gender based, and comes after love, not before.  I am literally falling for the person, who they are, their mind, and not the sex parts or what they can do with them.

Gender: Demigirl: I was assigned female at birth and do indeed have female traits. I, in fact, mostly wear skirts and dresses, but only because pants were invented by the devil. I like the freedom skirts offer. I also have many masculine traits and my husband and I joke I’m the husband/father and he’s the wife/mother. While I am indeed a mix of both genders in interesting ways, I’m ok with being assigned female at both, I’m ok with she/her as my pronouns, and I don’t feel any need to lose the tits. (Though for back pain purposes I would be happy to go down a couple sizes. But that would still leave plenty of tits.)

Any of these labels are subject to change as I grow as a person and discover new labels out there that I feel fit better than the last. And in the end, it doesn’t really matter anymore for me as I’m happily married to someone who is also a unique blend of sexuality, romantically, and gender. And we seem to fit together perfectly, in such a way that anyone on the outside looking in goes “WTF”, but it works beautifully for us, and we could never find this match with any other.

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Not All Love is BPD Love: My Letter to the Lost

Posted February 4, 2015 By kmarrs

BPD and the Broken HeartI don’t even know what to write about you, yet the drive to do so has been with me for ever so long. A good year now, really. Longer if I think about it. In fact you can trace back when I stopped writing in this blog and you’ll probably find that to be right about the time I wanted to write about you.

My life was chaos at the time.  Rift with so much sorrow and pain.  You were the friend that led me through it all.  At the time we were just friends, as I suppose we are now.  I knew you fancied me, in the way any man who likes a great behind might.  I knew we were dear to each other.  The way any friendship fueled by an unexplained emotional bond leads to dearness.  Looking back I realize I was in love with you long before you or I realized it; and while I won’t put those exact words into your mouth, I know I am very much treasured by you.  Whether or not the exact phrase applies, I know the emotion flows both ways.

It was never about sex or physical intimacy with us, which is a fair point as we’ve never been physically intimate.  No, I’m not counting the times you caught me crying as my world was shattering, and wrapped your arms around me, trying to help hold me together and in one piece.  That move showed me your heart, not your lust.

We discussed being intimate, but it never came to pass.  Even while it would have been ok.  Even though it would still be ok.  However, I’ve never needed that from you.  Oh, I’m sure I’d enjoy it, but I’m asexual enough to never need sex from anyone.  Even you.

What I need the most, possibly of all the things in the world that I don’t have, is just your existence in my life.  See, I know you insist you aren’t a stranger and that in our core we’ll always be friends, but we are no longer in each other’s lives.  I could blame you because you are impossible to ever get to text back.  Or your fear that hanging out will cause one thing to lead to another, which you aren’t comfortable with for reason I respect.  However, I hold so much of the blame within me for leaving a job I needed to leave.  Not because anything was wrong with the job, but because everything was wrong with me.

It is funny that our affection for one another was this big secret, which I understand why, but there is someone who knew from the start.  I didn’t have to tell Pat, though.  He told me.  Granted, I had figured it out by then, but he knew.  It wasn’t anything you or I said, please understand.  He reads people like we might read a newspaper or a book or a picture book with captions.  It was in our eyes.  In every interaction with one another.  Interactions that 99.9% of the world would see and think nothing of, but he knew.  And my dear, dear sweet friend, he has never been anything but ok with it.  He knows what our friendship is to me.  How pure and wonderful it is.  How true it is.  How the mutual joy in simply knowing each other and calling each other friend is a gift.  You don’t find many of those friendships.  Usually someone has something to be gained.  Or someone is secretly annoyed.  True friendship for its own sake?  A gift.

That friendship turned to love and love acknowledged lust and that’s ok.  He knows that and is ok with that.  Our marriage’s complexity is not understood by most, but he has his one woman friend that with my blessing, and when I’m in good mental health, he may go to when she is in town.  It is hard to be married to someone with little to no sex drive, I understand, and they love each other in a way that makes it more wholesome than a random one-night-stand, and yet she would never dream of coming between him and I.

You, my dear, are my unicorn.  People flock to you.  Want to be close to you.  Want to know you.  Be your friend.  Give you their business.  He is not immune to that pull you have.  It’s literally like a gravitational pull and he’s felt it.  After he confessed he knew our feelings, we talked about it at length.  Our little secret details are still ours, but he knows the feelings, desires, and heart ache.  He doesn’t blame me one bit for wanting to be near you, even if it does lead to intimacy, and he’d be the last to blame you for wanting to be intimate with me.  Or even just wanting to sit and talk for hours over coffee or tea or even alcohol.  I’d stay 100% sober so that nothing would be done that you’d regret in the morning.  I swear to you, my dear.

That is how I knew this wasn’t BPD love.  That I didn’t simply turn you into a white knight.  His validation of it was a huge step.  The fact he fully supports us in whatever it leads to is not trivial, with the understanding you would never dream of taking me from him for good.  You always have been our biggest relationship fan and supporter, which I have come to understand to be the reason behind your fear of being with me even just as friends, even though you believe in open marriages.  I know you’re afraid of hurting him or simply respect him to much to be alone with me in any capacity.  Then it having been a year since our last real length of time spent together and my heart still shatters into a million pieces at the thought that I may never… Anyway BPD love has always been gotten over much faster.  I see the flaws in them, or they write me off, or they turn hurtful, or basically I recognize they are only human, and the desire for them is lost in the wind.

With you… A year later and I still hope that one day you really will take me to dinner for my birthday.  You don’t have to touch me in any way.  Just once again let me be subject to your gravitational pull, let your words grace my ear, let my lips be privileged to tell you my thoughts and my life.  Not only would that be enough, but that’s all I need.

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