Logical Solutions

04 Mar, 2025

TW: Mentions of trauma, impulsive sexual behaviors, suicidal ideation, SA. Please drink some tea and listen to jazz instead of reading my story if it will upset you in any way, promise? This is another hard one to write. But it needs to be done, I think. I mask this part of me a lot until it takes over my identity in a way.

I have already been opened about the fact that I am an SA vicim. I hate admitting I was one. I hate remembering that time of my life. I also hate the hazy memories of childhood abuse. I hate remembering the dad left me bit. But I think about it a lot. Too much. It's colored too much of my life.

Autistic intensity makes me into a lot. I rejoice a lot, I cry a lot, I repeat a lot, I love a lot. I am too much and somehow not enough. I have a deep appreciation for mundane sensory experiences. Sometimes basking in the sensuality of the tangible. I have RSD. I have alexythimia. I am also hypersexual. THAT IS HARD TO ADMIT. I am the type that feels embarrased if whilst watching a movie a love scene happens. But yet I have an abnormal libido. Which combined with the too much of everything else plus trauma has made for a hot mess. I know I need therapy at this point because I see that there are a lot of moving parts juxtaposed that are making this rickety spirit and psyche of mine barely function.

What does a 22 year old autistic woman who was abandoned by her father, had a nasty breakup, and was sexually assaulted do? I cannot speak for everyone but I wll say my autism kicked hard. I stopped eating, drinking. I played rounds of Solitaire with burning eyes blurry with tears. Then an intense numbness. I hated myself. I wanted to die. I idly thought of the letter I'd write, and how and how it would feel to let go finally of the too much of everything. My friends rallied around me and I was able to very very slowly recover enough to where I could lower the baseline emotional pain to tolerable. I swore I would never ever trust a male again.

I made good on that promise for years, but it was a messy hodgepodge of me logic cobbled together to create a dysfunctional something. When I was 24, my libido got the best of me. I posted photos of my body on a website to meet people to hookup with. The twisted logic was based on:

The conclusion was that if I am hypersexual, not lovable, and fated to be rejected, why not turn the tables? Why not have sex with as many men as possible? It meant I would keep a mix of hookups, situationships, and FWBs so that whenever I needed a dopamine boost, I could simply choose someone. I practiced safe sex, but I was inviting literal stangers to my home to sleep with me. Sometimes I am shocked that I am alive, healthy, unhurt. It worked a little. The logic kept me entertained and avoided me getting attached, as the closest I would allow a man in was to be buddies. Have sex, talk video games, trade some Pokemon, quick hug goodbye. Simple and clean. And dangerous to my soul. Reinforcing my notion that I was worth nothing, I have continuously allowed myself to objectified and have in some situations, felt that I myself objectified others instead of giving care. I never beleived in love without sex, but sex without love was and is normal to me. Another "logic" in my head. Sex is a survival attribute and the pinning of love to it was more a societal decision at some point, no?

I talk about this now because I never did fix the problems back then. I surely do not have a plethora of partners anymore. I am not that callous. In the 15 years I have been with my husband, I've not been the best partner but I never physically was with another other than a few drunken chaste kisses on my lips at the company Christmas party. But this needing to escape the orthodox to gain a sliver of dopamine. The transaction of giving my sexual nature to those that don't deserve it just to get a sliver of something. A bargaining chip to pretend for a week, a night, a month that someone wants me. That is how I sell my soul. That is how I become an archetype, a set of fragments as opposed to a nuanced, whole woman, and to be frank, makes me into a damn pick me girl. A performer doing tricks on demand, as opposed to a real person.

Today, love is being positivized into sexuality, and, by the same token, subjected to a commandment to perform. Sex means achievement and performance. And sexiness represents capital to be increased. The body-with its display value-has become a commodity. At the same time, the Other is being sexualized into an object for procuring arousal. When otherness is stripped from the Other, one cannot love-one can only consume. To this extent, the Other is no longer a person; instead, he or she has been fragmented into sexual partobjects. There is no such thing as a sexual personality.
– Byung-Chul Han (The Agony of Eros)