I'll start off by saying that I'm not in IC, nor will I ever be in the foreseeable future for reasons I won't discuss, so now that that's out of the way I treat SI like a virtual IC. Some here know that I've been struggling pretty bad with my WW's A. And by struggling I mean 13 months out, I still cry several times a day, trigger constantly, mind movies, the works. I'd say I'm probably no better, if not worse, than I was a few weeks from JFO. Some of it's on her, and I can't control that. I work hard on trying to control what's on my end. I've read a lot of books, scoured the internet. I read SI voraciously, examine things that people say, pick up tips from what others talk about how they discover underlying issues, and do further research to see how / if I can apply it to my own healing. So bear with me on this one, and please don't read if you cried at the end of Old Yeller. I don't want that on my hands. (I apologize in advance for the graphic language, sometimes it's the only thing that conveys what you are trying to get across).
There was a thread a bit ago where a member discussed how they felt when other members talked about the OP in physical terms that applied to them, and how it made them feel. That got me thinking what types of threads on SI make me feel like absolute shit, so much so that I rarely venture into those forums? After many nights of crying recalling memories, I think I've figured it out. Blow jobs. I hate reading threads about them. At first I thought it was just because BJ's (no need to amplify further) were a huge part of my WW's affair. It was the first thing she did - climbed into his truck, drove off into a field, and sucked his dick. Right there I had thought I had found out my "why" I hate BJ threads. But I also read in Wayward a lot, and the great members in there are always pressing new members to keep digging, that the first "why" is almost always superficial. I struggled digging further initially because a) I was pretty sure that every time reading a BJ thread triggered me and gave me mind movies about my WW was a damn good reason and b) I thought I was smart enough that a) had to be right. Some advice if I may? The vets in Wayward are pretty spot on - a) probably ain't right.
Now comes the hard part. Simple childhood history for background because it's sorta important to the story. My mom was a serial cheater - 5 kids from 5 different fathers, married two of them, my dad was the last. She married him because he was in the Army, she wanted another kid, and he had insurance. He left for Nam before I was born, and didn't return until I was 4. He didn't return because my mom served him D papers after I was born, and they couldn't be served in a war zone, so he stayed until he got shot up by being on a routine patrol one night that happened to be the Tet Offensive. They lost 80% of their men, dad took quite a few bullets but earned a bronze star with the V for dragging a few guys into a hot LZ while injured. They tried to R when I was six, but dad was pretty f'd from the war, and mom wanted to fuck other men. Wasn't a great scenario. So obviously my mom wasn't a rocket scientist, she was a 10th grade dropout who liked having kids and screwing guys. I don't think the fact that she couldn't afford to care for her kids ever entered her mind (and don't get me wrong, I love her dearly - this ain't a mom bash). It lead to less than ideal living situations growing up. Most of my early childhood was Section 8 housing, food stamps, standing in line for cheese, milk, and other staples. We'd move from housing to housing as mom followed men and the deposits ran out. It wasn't great, but I made the most of it. I wasn't an unhappy child, I did well in school, and I've gone on to be what I consider pretty successful person. But my FOO issues were right there in the middle, and for almost my entire life I was able to shelve them and protect myself from them. Not any more.
Since every red blooded male who reads this thread is still trying to figure out why I hate BJ's, now comes the hard part. After bouncing from housing to housing, it looked like we had finally made it. We lived in a trailer, but it was ours. You can't imagine how nice it is to finally live without roaches, police, riots, and various other sundries. Mom had a boyfriend at the time (I'll call him Hustler, that was his CB handle and mom met him on the CB), who was a divorcee. He convinced her to sell our trailer, and we'd move into a bigger one with him and his two daughters. So it would be my mom, me, my sister, and them. Let's just say this arrangement didn't work out - it ended up with our new trailer being sold at auction as we were moving out. In the meantime though, I learned to hate BJ's. Hustler had a thing for young boys, and would sneak in my room at night and try to suck my dick. I was terrified. I finally lived in a trailer, mom needed him to afford it, and if I ruined it, we would be back to Section 8 or on the streets. So I didn't tell mom, or anyone. I was so ashamed. Scared. I was just getting out of sixth grade. To make matters worse, Hustler had a CB buddy called Santa Clause. They shared their prey. Mom was friends with him as well, and agreed when he asked her if he could take me to an amusement park (with him and some other of her CB friends) a couple of hundred miles away. I had to stay at his apartment the night before so we could get an early start. That night, he bet me I couldn't drink four Foster's Oil Cans. I was in seventh grade and let's just say alcohol wasn't unavailable in my housing situations growing up, so I took him up on his challenge for $100. I drank all four without puking, and passed out. Woke up because his beard was scratching my groin as he sucked my dick, but was too drunk to do anything about it. Lesson learned I guess. I never told anyone about that. A few years later when I was sixteen, the FBI came to my job site asking if I new Hustler. He had been picked up for raping two young boys on an Army post, and I was summoned to testify against him in Federal court. I had to take the witness stand, and relive my experiences with the entire court, I was challenged on specifics, did I come in his mouth, did he jerk me off first, did I enjoy it, did I come on to him first. It was pretty brutal, but I got through it, he was sentenced to 48 months of outpatient care for mental illness, and I moved on with my life and truly never thought about it again. Until now.
I didn't really realize I hated BJ's until just tonight. I've had my share, they are enjoyable, but I never pressured or really even asked a girl to give me one. If they went down on me, I tolerated it (sound familiar?) but I'd almost never cum in their mouths. I never gave it much thought honestly, I just figured I'd rather please them and would just as well cum inside them or have them jack me off. I can't ever remember any woman I've ever been with complaining that I didn't let her suck my dick enough, or cum in her mouth enough. My WW once asked me if I enjoyed it and I said it was fine, but I preferred being inside of her. Never thought much of it. I was fine with BJ's, I could just take them or leave them, to me there was always something better to do sexually with a partner than ask her to do what I thought might be humiliating to them. How many BJ jokes are out there that reinforce that women hate BJ's and that they are nasty? Plenty. Why was the bride smiling while she walked down the aisle? She knew she had given her last BJ. (Ba dump dump). It's ironic, I thought I was over what was done to me in my early years, was able to put it out of my mind and live a good life, never triggered about it, pretty much forgot about it. But then my wife had an A. And now, I can't stop thinking about her giving BJ's.
Sorry Puddles if you are reading this, it's about to get brutal, but your part in this is central to the issue and I don't know any other way to explain it. BJ's were a centerpiece of her A. It started out like I described earlier in the truck, and every session they had together ended in her giving him a happy ending, because the poor guy didn't like to cum in a condom. Not only that, when I was doing some forensics I found this gem she said to him in one of their first chats: "i loooove giving head when i guy loves it". Fuck me. For 17 damn years I've got every man's dream, a woman that loves to suck dick and swallow, and I don't know it? That would have been some handy information there, I tell you. I'll take the blame for never explaining to my WW why I was ambivalent about her giving me head. That's on me. But damn. I already had some pretty deep issues with BJ's, and to know, and I mean know (he has the video) that it was that important between them, I'm struggling getting over. How do you get over shit like that? There are so many levels - the sharing of her real feelings with him, but never me, the actual acts themselves, the mind movies when we are intimate. Shit, for the first 6 months after DDay I freaked if her head got near my nether parts. And yes, I've "reclaimed" the territory so to speak, once. It took a while. That in itself is a trigger, because even when we shared that particular act, I always took forever (surprise!) and she'd get frustrated and we'd finish the old fashioned way (her hogtied over a cherry cheesecake - don't knock it till you've tried it). But I never thought it was important, in fact, I kinda of expected to be rewarded for her not being made to suck my dick on demand. Some of it I see as possibly being humiliating to someone who does it out of "duty". I didn't want to be that guy, just never realized she wanted me to be that guy.
I'm just trying to get this out of my system, hopefully writing it out here will be some form of therapy. But I'm really hung up on this now. I know how important it is to her, it's obvious. It's also obvious to me that it's something that I seem to have a problem with. I finally realize why, but I'm not sure what to do with that information. I was able to shut it out before, and probably have some other shit in other closets as well, but I can't get this door shut again. It's not the only door, just one of the ones I've found the handle to. It's just a double whammy I can't handle - what brought me so much pain in my life was what my wife gave to the OM for pleasure on demand. He'd call her up, guaranteed to get it every single time. What's the damn record for how many times in a row that a woman does this? How many women reading this (might be safe to say probably none by now) have ever swallowed five times in a row to please their mate? That's not even a third of what I'm talking about.
Thanks in advance to anyone who offers advice. I also apologize for the lack of emoticoms to really emphasize what I was trying to say, but I just typed this out in a text editor and I'll be damned if I go back through looking for spots to put smileys.