On days like this, when scenes from my childhood flashes through my mind, I fear my eligibility for the make heaven list. It is easy to rationalize that I was just a child but then don’t we grow up to become adult versions of ourselves? That I did. I grew up into a rather very improved version. My name is Nene. And I think I was born a Sex Addict.
I do not recall how I came to stroke myself against my pillow that first time and it really doesn’t matter. I just needed to experience that ecstatic feeling again and again, so it became a habit. That was my first conscious sexual experiment. I was about 9. Then, I was watching a movie alone with Uncle Chucks, a family friend. The movie ended just ten minutes after we’d been alone – Aunty Nneka and the kids weren’t home – and as I made to leave for home, Uncle Chucks glanced at me and offered to put in another movie I would enjoy. It turned out to be a not so regular movie and my body enjoyed it just as much as Uncle Chucks did (I could see it in his eyes). Of course I hadn’t watched that sort of movie before but I had heard whispers of it. The voice in my head telling me being there was wrong prevailed, and lead me to dash out before Uncle Chucks decided on a reenactment of the movie.
Between the ages of eleven and fifteen I must have been involved with at least eight men, all older than I was with at least eight years and some married. For some unknown reason I attracted older, married man. I still do actually. And at first it was kind of exciting for me. Ninety percent of the time I can see that they will make a pass at me, even before they themselves realize it. I daresay, I can spot a pedophile or a possible pedophile by just studying his relationship with a minor. A skill I developed from all the experience I had garnered or maybe it’s just the cynic in me.
Majorly, since sex was something that was so revered and I was taught never to indulge in until marriage, I got curious and flirted with the idea routinely. I mean this was something that I was being told I should stay away from and just an imitation of it via the not so innocent stroke against a pillow was giving me so much pleasure, how much more the act itself I wondered. Curiosity for how the act really felt got the best of me but I was never able to go through with it for a very long time. The things I indulged in though, it’s amazing how I kept my virginity for as long as I did. I guess I was lucky to have carried out my indulgence with men who are not particular about how they get off.
Anyways, I lost it, my virginity, at 19 and I wasn’t disappointed at all. I didn’t even feel the supposed initial pain, probably because of some of my indulgences. And as a teenager who got addicted to the stroke against a pillow, it is only logical to get addicted to the pleasures of having sex. However, the ferocity of my addiction has escalated and I have to have sex at least 3 times daily to function properly. I have been in numerous relationships, several of which were great but ended because the boy gets tired of the “too much” sex or he catches me cheating because he can’t adequately satisfy me.
Now, fate has smiled on me as my current boyfriend has proposed to me. We are to be married in the next two months. I really love this guy and would love to spend the rest of my life with him. But he doesn’t satisfy me sexually, though I let him think he does. Throughout our relationship, I’ve always had a side-guy. I want to stop this habit of mine, so it doesn’t destroy my marriage. My friend I confided in suggests I need either medical help, spiritual help or both. She is probably right, but as I sit here reflecting on the past and trying to pinpoint the source of my problem, I wonder if I was born a sex addict or the environment/experiences made me so.