It made me emotionaly numb and the beauty of someone you liked wanting to have sex with you dissapeared. Love ment sex but sex ment nothing therefor love ment nothing.I thought: "I do lots of things, but not love"
So, I went for the secure thing.
A relationship.
A brief one.
Sex with Joe the plumber.
Except one morning when I fucked him on his balchony. That was fun!
It was the start of me fucking people instead of the other way around.
Note: being sexualy abused is in my experience something almost every woman encounters. (Someone touching you, looking at you or saying somthing sexual in a way that scares you.)
And even if you don't, just the tought and fear of being raped or abused on your way home (or in your home) has a hold on most women in a way men will never understand.
That in itself is a form of abuse.
