It happened rather gradually as we began spending more and more time together. It was really the first time in my life I could call my boyfriend my best friend. Greg started to become more distant and detached, and I sensed that he was having a tough time processing sex as part of our relationship.
I continued to see him as the person I’d gotten to know over the course of our friendship, not as this self-described sex addict. I went along with it, thinking that we were just working out the kinks (no pun intended). I’m not sure if there’s ever a good way to ask your partner about having a threesome, but I can certainly say that over text a mere six months into your relationship is never a good call.
He started to elaborate—probably thinking that he had my best interest in mind—explaining that he watched porn daily, cycled through various women with reckless abandon and couldn’t maintain anything resembling a healthy relationship.
I had always known that he had been through a string of tumultuous relationships in the past, but I had no idea the extent of it. In a moment of panic, I excused myself to the bathroom muttering about needing to find floss (I’m not that smooth under pressure) and hid behind the locked door Googling “sex addiction.” There is some debate as to whether sex addiction is a real disorder, and many cite the fact that it was excluded from the DSM-V (the unequivocal “Bible” for all psychological diagnoses) as a rationale for denying its validity.
It was incredibly difficult for me to wrap my brain around this—this wasn’t the person I knew.
The person I knew was one of the most caring, sensitive and all-around amazing people I’ve ever met in my life.
He’d been there for me in some pretty difficult times throughout the years we’d known each other, and I trusted him implicitly. It started with some porn in the background here, the odd bizarre request there.
Fast forward a few months after this bombshell revelation, and the unthinkable had happened—despite every single rational fiber in my body, Greg and I actually started dating. I knew that I could tell him anything, regardless of how dark or serious or sensitive the topic. I could tell he wanted his sexual relationships to mimic what he saw on screen, and I grew increasingly uncomfortable and self-conscious.
She used to tell me about this guy or that one seemingly to make me jealous. I keep having a dream where I repeatedly see her with other guys.
Sometimes it’s sexual, sometimes it’s just out on dates. OK, I’m mostly done.’ So it’s no wonder that now, when you are truly done, your subconscious is still attached… What really got my attention is when you say, ‘I think I’m just projecting my fear of seeing her with other guys.’ I believe that statement is 100 percent true.
It was hard, but we mutually agreed to take a step back and reorient as friends.
I know that Greg’s addiction is ultimately the reason we had to break off our romantic relationship, but I don’t fault him for it. His addiction didn’t make him any less of a person, and it didn’t make our relationship any less real or valid.
My personal filter had been disabled about two drinks ago, and I figured now was as good a time as any to ask Greg why we never hooked up or even contemplated dating. ” I proceed to shove a handful of peanut M&M’s into my mouth in an effort to diffuse the tension.“Well, for starters, I’m a sex addict.”I half laughed/half choked at his response, unintentionally spewing a fine layer of masticated chocolate across the back of my friend's couch.