I was 18 when I first went to a gay bar. I had to wear a wristband to get in. I stood in the corner on the edge of the dance floor nursing my virgin Rum and Coke. My hair was unkempt. I wasn’t manicured. Every time I tried to connect, all I could say was, “God this music sucks.” I was desperate to make friends, but I couldn’t seem to break through.
My first sexual experience was with my uncle when I was nine years old. This grew into a full-blown homosexual relationship that lasted until I was eighteen. When it began, I was starved for acceptance and love, and I needed to feel wanted. When he chose me, I felt special.
When I was a boy growing upon the farm, I was a very private, shy person, and it was very hard for me to ask anyone about sex. So when my neighbor introduced me to sexual activity, I was ashamed to talk to anyone except the priest in the confessional.
All my life, all I wanted was to fit in, to be accepted, and to feel okay about myself. I grew up in a family of multiple addictions, and I was a loner. From very early on I hated myself. I felt trapped, always wishing and waiting to grow up so I could do what I wanted to and have the freedom to get away from it all.
I was well on my way to being an addict by age eleven. Pre-puberty masturbation was already a regular part of my life and it wanted more and more. By age thirteen, I was experimenting with sexual activity with my younger sister. We feared being caught and punished, so we stopped.
I had early childhood experiences that would probably be considered steps in the formation of homosexuality. Despite these early experiences, I saw myself as heterosexual. When my sexaholism began to exhibit itself, it was through straight porn, phone sex, and strip clubs.
All my life I felt “different” from the other boys. I was sensitive and didn’t like to play rough sports. I spent most of the time with the girls. At age 12, I became sexually active with males and females. Since the first day, I used sex as I had been using food since I was seven: to medicate the pain of my early childhood abuse. It became so painful that I needed more and more lust to cover up my feelings.
During high school I was getting more and more confused. I would hitchhike and pick up men for sex in exchange for money to buy drugs or impress my friends. My “friends” were druggies. I was surprised that good looking girls would hang around me. I was an egomaniac with an inferiority complex.
I’m Paul H., a grateful sexaholic, sober since December 1996. The nature of my disease is lusting, wanting to be lusted after, compulsive masturbation, use of pornography, dependency relationships, and anonymous encounters.
This evening I feel I’m a very lucky man. God has given me an opportunity to live a joyful life. I celebrated my 40th birthday on the weekend. My wife, children, my Dad and Mom, brothers and sisters and their children were all there sharing this big day with me. The previous week, my wife and I went on a quiet drive through Nova Scotia where we shared the fresh air, spring flowers and lovely countryside. These times are special moments to cherish.
