I want to communicate to you how I have processed the events which transpired between us. It requires some context.

I don’t keep count but I have only had a small handful of sexual partners in my life. I do not really put myself out there or have good social skills. Usually the woman has to indicate interest in order for me to feel secure in initiating further, as you had probably gathered from our interaction. The subtlest hint I ever made a move on was a hug goodbye where she used her legs — already pretty obvious. Most often the woman makes the move —an unsolicited kiss, a text while I am in her bathroom asking “Do you want to make out when you come back into the bedroom?” (I answered “totally”), someone just straight leading me to a bed (this was how I lost my virginity), or probably the most straightforward where we were already in bed, and finally she asked me “do you want to have sex?” (How dense could I be…)…a very small handful of others. Otherwise I am too bashful. A lot of these were short-lived mistakes — only 4 of them were significant relationships.

That all sounds cute and funny, but there are some pretty ugly truths about myself. The thing is that I have always had a messed up sexual dynamic with women — characterized by this feeling of ambivalence or detachment; I could never be fully immersed in sex with or wholly attracted to anyone. I had come to conclude that it was something intrinsic to who I was, that some part of me was asexual or even on some level repulsed by all women. And not just women I have been with, but all women. This is because even among the women I found myself genuinely attracted to initially, I eventually arrived at this same gnawing feeling of ambivalence — like I did not truly belong with them, or that they were incompatible in some very crucial way. This happened during the most crucial moments of intimacy.

I found it extremely troubling. I was sad that I would probably never find someone where I didn’t feel this, where it would feel unnatural when I said “I love you” because I was always scared to death that I was lying to myself. It didn’t matter how physically beautiful the person was or how much we got along as friends. My attraction was always tainted.

During sex, I would feel like I was watching myself from the 3rd person. I liked performing. For me, it wasn’t entirely about my own pleasure — a very substantial part of it was that I could have control or power over the other person. I am ashamed of this, but I enjoyed when I could manage to manipulate them through sex to be into me to the point that I basically possessed them. It was ego-validating. I also wanted them to be beautiful, not necessarily to me, since it seemed that no one was truly "my type," or even if I thought they might be, I would always be disappointed by the reality of actually being intimate with them. It was more that I would want them to be beautiful to bolster my own self-esteem and ego. This was more in my younger years. I would oftentimes brag to people about my current girlfriend as like a status thing. In retrospect I find this to be incredibly pathetic and immature and disgusting. It was because I was very insecure (and still am) insecure.

This is why I never wanted to talk to you about my history, or the psychology which underlies it. I do not endorse any of it, and I am deeply ashamed of it. But one thing that remains true in the present about all of it is this feeling of ambivalence toward seemingly all women. I can never shake it.

Given that we did not know each other that long, this might come off as rather unfounded, or out of left field. But I have this conviction that comes not from the mind, but from some unflappable, infallible source within me, from my bones, from some deeper intuitional well, whatever you want to call it. It sounds ridiculous however I try to characterize it, honestly.
But when I kissed you, I totally lost track of myself. It was without a doubt the most passion I had ever experienced in my life. Our time together made me involuntarily care for you in a way that I had never experienced with anyone...something deep seated in me wanted to take care of you and treat you nicely and make you feel good — more than anyone else I was ever with. It was disturbing. Naturally, I pretended I didn't care so much about you and I never engaged these impulses because of how vulnerable and out of control I would feel, like you would have the upper hand…I always felt like you had the upper hand, honestly. And I wanted so desperately to be in control of myself.

But I lost total control at the end. When we cuddled the very last time. That was the worst idea. It totally broke my heart. What drove the stake through me, what totally destroyed me, was when you told me you had a boyfriend.

You will remain a splinter in my mind. I wish so much that I had never met you. I wish you had never facilitated this realization. I genuinely would have preferred ignorance, the ambivalence I had always had with people, instead of this reality where I found the exception to the rule, and she did not reciprocate.