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The Addiction I Mistook for Love
“You know what’s worse? I can’t sleep without having sex with him. Pleasure is the only moment when everything makes sense. After… after I feel empty. But I need this. I need these moments to pretend we’re still a couple.”
The words spilled out over coffee, unplanned, unfiltered. A confession that had been clawing at my throat for months.
Sex became the only thing tying me to a man I no longer loved.
Not the kind of addiction described in self-help books, but a more insidious one — the kind that thrives in marriages where passion is the only thing left, where intimacy is mistaken for connection, where sex is a mask covering the deep cracks of emotional disconnection.
When Love Fades, but Lust Remains
“Sometimes, when he’s inside me, I forget that I don’t love him anymore. My body reacts, betrays me. The pleasure is real, intense… but afterward, I feel disgusted. Not with him. With myself.”
I used to crave his touch for all the right reasons — because I adored him, because I wanted him, because I felt safe in his arms.
Now, I crave him because it’s the only time we feel remotely close.
