This has been an emotional past few days, so strap in for some trauma unpacking in—

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My ex once told me "people only pay attention to you because you're fuckable". A sentence constructed to stab at a very vulnerable part of my insecurities. It was the sentence that marked the end of our marriage for me.

Growing up, I never really found myself attractive, but it was obvious others did. In highschool—unbeknownst to me—a group of yearbook folx arranged to put me in the yearbook as "most desirable student". In my 20s, I had a drinking problem—largely aided by the fact that when I went to a bar, drinks often just showed up at my table.

As a neglected latchkey kid I liked the attention, I often mistook it for love, and I ended up fucking a lot of people.

Along the way, I learned that people can get pretty mean and/or hurt when you decline sex, and, even when they didn't, there was still the fear that declining sex (or not being "good enough" at it) would lead to their love or affection being withdrawn.

This is all backstory to catch you up to this weekend.

I have a partner; I'll call them "B". B and I have been going out for some months now, and we're quite close. We have an active, and amazing, sex life. In fact, sex is one of our main bonding activities.

I'd never declined sex with them...until this Saturday morning. You see, B had slept over on Friday, and by the time we'd finished watching Lower Decks with my nesting partner, T, we were ready to crash for the night. The following morning, I woke up next to B. Cuddling ensued, things escalated, I went to use the restroom before sex, and in that moment a little voice in my head whispered "...because you're fuckable".

I *wanted* to have sex with B. I *was* turned on—right up until that intrusive thought. But now it was going to eat at me. I knew it wasn't true, but the seed had been planted, and I couldn't disprove it without turning B down, so...I did...and it was hard...and B was visibly disappointed.

We talked as we laid there in bed. I explained as best I could at the time that this wasn't rejection, that it wasn't them, it was me (god that sounds cliché, but it was true), and that I still loved them. We cried and held each other for some time afterwards.

A couple hours later, B's spouse, "D", and their spouse's partner, "V", came over for lunch and movies. B and I were both low energy—still teary-eyed—and B was withdrawn. B sat with D and I, on the verge of tears as we tried to console them, until they left later that evening.

After everyone left, I tried to put on my "everything's fine" face and went out to a show that a friend had invited me to. My spoons were spent and I was feeling vulnerable. Old bar patterns popped back up and, as drinks were offered to me, I accepted. I'm glad no one took advantage of the situation, because I wasn't making good choices. My lovely partner, T, eventually picked me up and got me home safely.

Fast-forward through the next day's hangover, and D texts me to let me know B is spiraling, but doesn't want to reach out for fear of being a burden to me. They must have convinced B to reach out, because I got a text a moment later while I was in the middle of typing out an invitation for B to come over to talk.

B shows up about an hour and a half later. We hug for a long time, then curl up on the couch together to talk. B says they see sex as something that brings us closer and that they were disappointed I had declined it, but mostly they felt like they hadn't been supportive enough in the moment.

So there we were—B afraid they'd let me down, me afraid I'd let B down. B feeling rejected, me thinking B was working up to the "breakup talk"—both expecting love to be withheld; both being wrong.

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Update: I ended up sending this to B to make sure they thought everything was accurately represented and that they were okay with me posting it.

B responded affirmatively and added that on Saturday they were stuck in their own head—feeling guilty for wanting sex, and worrying that I had felt pressured.

"""
From B: I wish that morning that I had just been able to say, "I'm sorry your brain is being mean to you and the things it's telling you are not true. I do like having sex with you and connecting with you in that way *and* I value you as a whole person. If not having sex with you right now is what you need from me in this moment, that's ok. I still love you. I still want to spend time with you. I'm not going anywhere." And then spent the afternoon just cuddling you.
"""

I feel like starting any relationship talk with a "I love you and I'm not going anywhere" disclaimer (so long as it's true) would go a long ways towards quieting those insecure, and frankly kinda dickish, inner voices we all have.

As I think on this more, I might add follow-up posts.