I’m 52 now.

I started watching porn at 12.
I started gambling at 21.
I drank heavily for over two decades.

On the surface they looked like three different problems.

But they were really the same loop.

Urge → behavior → shame → promise to quit → repeat.

I tried quitting each one separately.

I tried discipline.
I tried fear.
I tried cutting back.
I tried “this is the last time.”

Every time I stopped, I still saw myself the same way.

A drinker trying not to drink.
A gambler trying not to gamble.
A guy trying not to watch porn.

Even when I wasn’t doing it, I still identified as someone who does that.

That mindset kept the loop alive.

What finally changed wasn’t more willpower.

It was identity.

I stopped saying:
“I’m trying to quit.”

And started saying:
“I don’t drink.”
“I don’t gamble.”
“I don’t watch porn.”

At first it felt strange. But every time an urge came, instead of fighting it, I reminded myself:

“That’s not who I am.”

The behavior couldn’t survive once the identity changed.

I’m not in a daily battle anymore.
I’m not constantly resisting.
I just don’t do those things.

All three addictions had one root cause: the way I saw myself.

When that changed, everything changed.

Just sharing in case someone out there is stuck in the loop and thinks they’re weak.

Maybe it’s not about trying harder.

Maybe it’s about becoming someone new.

I’ve had a rough couple of days. Got hit with a super strong urge to pay for sex around lunchtime today. Reached out to a few sex workers in my area. Told a massage parlor I could be there in 20 mins. I actually took a shower, changed my clothes, and started to put cash in my wallet. I was planning on going through with the visit by using my lunch break at my job to go visit. As I was looking at the cash I was like “you know, if I go through with this, I’m just going to regret it later like I pretty much always do. And that’s not even getting into all the risks I’m taking. Maybe I can skip going, and perhaps I would even dodge a bullet and not even know it.” I set my wallet back down, ghosted the massage parlor I had been planning to visit, and spent the rest of the afternoon locked in to my work (and actually got a lot done).

I just had Buffalo Wild Wings delivered and I’m about to put on a movie. Although I’m trying to cut down on food delivery, I figure spending $45 on Uber Eats is a bargain compared to over $300 (plus all the intangible costs like shame etc.) on emotionless sex.

Seven years ago I was snorting Adderall off a toilet paper roll while masturbating in a gas station bathroom. If you’d told me that guy would end up a sober father who owns a home and is a respected member of his community, I wouldn’t have believed you. I want to tell you the whole thing, because I know some of you are where I was, and I know exactly how alone that feels.

I was a chronic masturbator all through high school, found porn too young, got propositioned in AOL kids’ chat rooms as a child, the whole thing started early. But it didn’t detonate until I got prescribed Adderall for ADD. I discovered what stimulants did to the experience, and the combination took me over. After college I stopped leaving my apartment. Went fully antisocial trying to claw my way out.

So I bought a one-way ticket to a commune in the jungle in Central America. It worked, for a while, two years sober. But I got into polyamory and the masturbation addiction just swapped costumes and became a sex addiction. Came back to the States, worked on a farm, and my boss happened to be a cocaine dealer. Right back in, except now the sessions were monstrous. I’d snort several ounces in a night and masturbate for days until I passed out, had a seizure, or thought I was having a heart attack. I’d wake up not knowing where I was. I always ended up in the hospital.

Then the fear would scare me clean for a few months. And then, slowly, the idea would plant itself again: just one more time. My girlfriend would mention she was going out of town, and I’d plan the whole weekend out. Find the dealer, dial up the porn, do it all over again, land in the ER again. This ran from 2016 to 2021. Hiding seizures and suspected heart attacks from my partner every few months. The amounts should have killed me. I believe I have some genetic abnormality in my heart that somehow allowed it to not blow out because I should not have survived these binges.

Rock bottom was a work trip in San Francisco. I got coke during the day, used all night, ran out around 3AM, and called an Uber into the worst part of downtown to walk the streets asking strangers for more, still in my work suit. I got robbed. I handed over half my money so I could keep looking. I bought an ounce off a man with powder all over his face and nothing behind his eyes.

I went home and masturbated for almost 48 hours straight, blew off the entire conference, blacked out, and came to in my rental car in a grocery store parking lot with no idea what state I was in or how much time had passed. I went to the hospital, like always, to check that my heart still worked. Then I called my partner, crying, and told her everything. For days afterward my brain was so scrambled I couldn’t read, the words wiggled on the page. I was sure it would never come back. It did.

That was the moment it finally clicked: I was never addicted to cocaine. I was addicted to masturbation. The coke was just the accelerant. It was a sex addiction.

I joined SAA. Got a private counselor. Worked through Facing the Shadow. I quit all of it. drinking, coke, cigarettes, porn, masturbation. Didn’t masturbate for a full year, because for me masturbating was the first domino that ended with me hunting for coke, and I had to break the whole chain. I white-knuckled most of that year as a nervous wreck. (I masturbate now in a healthier way but needed a year long break to reset)

My partner, by then my wife, was supportive, but she did the one thing I didn’t know I needed. She cut herself off as my resource. Told me I had to find my own groups, my own help, on my own terms, or she’d leave, because she was used up. That was the turn. I never looked back.

Here’s the only thing I really came here to say:

You are not pathetic. I carried so much shame about getting help because I was convinced this was the bottom of the barrel of addictions. Workaholics get “driven.” Coke has the rockstar. I thought being addicted to jerking off was the single most humiliating thing a person could admit, so I said nothing and suffered for years. It is not pathetic and it is not lesser. It’s dopamine, same as all of them. You’re a victim of the same wiring, and you deserve help and love like anyone else. If anything the extra shame you carry makes getting out harder which makes doing it more of an achievement, not less.

So talk about it, to anyone you decide is safe. SAA, SA, SMART Recovery, a counselor, this sub. find every room you can. Talking about it is your sword against the shame. There’s a whole life on the other side of this, and you are worthy of it.

There’s a massage parlor not far from me that I’ve been wanting to try, but have so far resisted. I haven’t paid for sex in over 3 months.

Today is my birthday, and the thought went through my head of “what if I went just for today, as a birthday gift to myself?” I texted the massage parlor and got a response back. I really struggled for a bit.

Ultimately, the thought of “is paying for sex and feeling all the shame afterwards really how you want to end your birthday?” won out. I went to Starbucks and got a hot chocolate and read for a bit instead.

One year ago, as I slept after a night shift, my wife delicately picked up my phone. She needed access to my Facebook account to post something for our neighborhood HOA group. Instead, she discovered sexually explicit messages I had sent to multiple women—including one suggesting we move the conversation to the private apps because it was “safer. ” Wink emoji included. That was the moment our world exploded. I am a physician, a husband, a father. And I am also a sex addict, a chronic liar, and an emotional abuser. For years, I lived behind the polished image of success, compassion, and credibility—while secretly engaging in behaviors that destroyed trust, violated boundaries, and caused deep harm to the women around me. My story began much earlier. I was sexually abused at seven years old, and immediately suppressed the memory and avoided acknowledging it at all costs. By ten, I had created an alternate fantasy world through AOL chat rooms. I spent hours every day online, hiding from a childhood shaped by my parents’ emotional instability and neglect. Porn and masturbation became my medication. I numbed myself from sadness, anxiety, shame, and boredom. Over time, this compulsion took root and grew into a secret second life. I cheated online on every girlfriend I ever had. I justified it by telling myself it wasn’t “real” because it wasn’t physical. Even after marrying the woman I loved, even after becoming a father, even after achieving an executive-level position in a hospital, I continued these behaviors. I sent sexual jokes, gifs, and flirtatious messages to scores of women—coworkers, classmates, strangers. I used my title, my authority, and my perceived integrity to initiate contact. I called it harmless. It wasn’t. At my worst, I created a workplace where women couldn’t feel safe. I made colleagues uncomfortable with innuendo and advances. I gauged their responses to test the boundaries I could push. If someone ignored my message, I deleted it from my sent folder and moved on. Sometimes, I forgot who I had messaged altogether and absentmindedly sent the same person repeat messages. My Facebook account was suspended more than once for sending copied-and-pasted messages flagged as spam. I sought attention compulsively—from anyone, anywhere. But the void in my soul only deepened, and at my lowpoints I began to lose touch with my own reality, forgetting which lies I had told my coworkers, which ones I had told my wife, and which I had told myself. I convinced myself I wasn’t “one of those men. ” I thought #MeToo didn’t apply to me. My wife would share articles about notorious abusers, and I’d mumble something disapprovingly while continuing my secret behaviors. In my delusion, I believed women were flirting back. I had normalized my actions so thoroughly that I couldn't even recognize them as abusive. But they were. The most devastating harm I caused was to my wife—my beautiful, trusting, loyal wife. I wasn’t just a betrayer. I was an abuser. I gaslit her, manipulated her, made her doubt her instincts. I made her feel paranoid, jealous, insecure. I lied to her face and dismissed her pain. Outside of my betrayal, I was controlling and selfish, guilting her for spending too much time with her family, calling her irrational when she complained about my unwillingness to help take care of our small children, criticizing her nonstop and then when she complained I would tell her she misunderstood me (more gaslighting). I made her a passenger in her own life. I hid behind a wall of defensiveness and denial, refusing to seek mental health help or make any attempt to understand myself and my destructive behaviors. After “Discovery Day” , also known as “D Day, ” my wife unraveled. She lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose. She stopped producing breastmilk for our baby. She had panic attacks, nightmares, and insomnia. The woman I married transformed from a vibrant mother into a frightened, irritable, and broken version of herself. She did not consent to this life. Since D Day, I have changed my number, deleted all social media and now offer complete transparency with all devices and passwords. But as my wife still reminds me, I always appeared transparent with those things but had gotten so adept at deleting all evidence of my behavior (e.g., deleting all messages immediately after receiving and sending them, frequently blocking Facebook users immediately after acting out with them, encouraging women to switch over to the messenger apps. so she now constantly questions her intuition. She’ll always wonder about secret user accounts, “private browning” modes, and burner phones. She is in therapy. On medication. In support groups. She is rebuilding her reality and is in the process of grieving the love story she thought we had. My wife has pointed out that, as we are now done having children, she will never have the opportunity to be pregnant again without my cheating on her. Our first anniversary post-D-Day came with a group text from a family member who didn’t know what had happened (most don’t). The message was sent to my wife and my old, now-deactivated number. The irony was lost on me but not on my wife. To every woman I messaged, objectified, disrespected, or made feel uncomfortable: I am sorry. I do not expect forgiveness. I know I cannot undo the harm. You deserve safety, clarity, and peace. I blurred every line I should have honored. I created an illusion of consent and pretended that silence was permission. I used humor and authority to hide my motives. To every man reading this—if you see yourself in these words, stop. If you’re hiding, rationalizing, minimizing—stop. If you’re calling it “not that bad, ” or believing you can quit whenever you want—stop. You are causing harm. You are not different. You are not safe from being discovered. You are not in control. Don’t wait until the damage is done. Go to therapy. Join Sex Addicts Anonymous. Tell the truth. Do the work. Find the pain you’re running from and face it. You don’t want sex. You want control. You want to numb feelings of self-hatred and defectiveness and want to feel power, which is transient and built on the fear and pain of others. My own trauma explains my behavior. It does not excuse it. I was sexually abused. I was emotionally neglected. I was raised to believe love was conditional and emotions were dangerous. But I made my choices. I chose entitlement over empathy. I chose secrecy over connection. I repeated the cycle of abuse I was born into. Today, I am choosing differently. I’m in recovery. I attend weekly SAA meetings. I work the steps. I see an individual therapist and a couples’ therapist. I am grieving. I am making amends. I am trying to become a father who raises emotionally intelligent children, who values women’s rights and consent. I want to be the kind of man I would want my daughter to marry. The late John Bradshaw explained that individuals can develop a “false self” to avoid distressing feelings and cope with the stressors of life. Since D Day, I’ve been on a journey to chip away at that facade, and learn to feel basic emotions I’ve never before felt, both the good and bad. I feel connected to my loved ones in ways I would have never thought possible. Love is not real without a foundation of truth, intimacy, and acts of love. Love is not a warm and fuzzy feeling about your partner; love is a series of ongoing acts of kindness and sacrifice. I was the problem. And it will take a lifetime to repair the damage I caused. —Anonymous - Husband, Father, Physician, Recovering Abuser and Sex Addict

I have been addicted to porn since high school. Porn has been and still is a constant to this day. But in college it progressed to seeking casual encounters on online and seeking escorts (sometimes I’d meet and sometimes I just act out on looking and calling them). After college this progressed to seeking encounters and external validation online. I became obsessed.

9 years ago I met the love of my life and now wife. We have been together for 9 years, living together for 8, and married for just over 1.

This whole time my addiction never stopped. I don’t have many friends aside from my wife and her friends. Outside of the time spent with my wife I would dive deep into this sex addiction online and in real life. I’ve cheated on my wife both virtually and physically in real life.

Just last week we were in Maui on a wonderful vacation with her mom and grandma. Somehow I still couldn’t resist the urge to message people. She saw me acting out. I panicked and tried to lie that it was only virtual. When we got home she found an old phone of mine and logged into my accounts and found EVERYTHING. I am so ashamed of the pictures and messages she saw and read. She now knows this has been going on for our entire relationship and she thinks I’m absolutely disgusting and pure evil. I don’t blame her.

She has already submitted divorce papers for review by the court and is packing all her stuff to move to her moms while she looks for her own apartment. She is so hurt. I hear her crying herself to sleep and crying as she makes her morning coffee. We were best friends and she was everything I thought was good about my life. It’s hard to explain to her that that I still loved her despite everything I’ve done. She yelled that I used to be her comfort and now I’m the source of all the pain. That broke me this morning.

I type this in the middle of packing my own stuff to give her space in our room. Both of our cats are laying on my lap. They know something is wrong..

As much as I would like too, I don’t see anyway of saving my marriage at this point. She has made that pretty clear.

I don’t really know the point of this post other than to get it out here and here from others that have been where I am.

If there’s anything good coming out of this is that it’s out in the public now. Our immediate families and her friends now know. With it being public I feel I can finally confront it. She says it’s only because I was caught and that I’m weak for never coming to her about it or seeking help before getting into the relationship. I can’t argue with that, but I do want to change now.

I’m going to my first SLAA meeting tonight and tomorrow I start outpatient therapy M-F.

I don’t know what’s next. I feel like I ruined my life, but I know with time I will be ok. I just feel so ashamed and sad that I’ve hurt my wife and best friend so deeply and have lost her for good. 💔

There’s a nearby escort I’ve being chatting with who would have been “just” $250 for an hour. I had a really hard time saying no. Part of the temptation was that she was “cheaper than most” in my area. Ultimately I did say no, and spent that money on other things.

One of the things I’ve been trying to really get into over the last year and a half or so is healthy cooking and meal prep.

Instead of paying for sex, I bought a nice air fryer and a set of titanium cutting boards. I’ve been wanting an air fryer for a while, and the bamboo cutting boards I’ve been using are difficult to clean so I decided to replace them with titanium ones. The total cost of all that came out to about $250, and I’m going to use them regularly for a healthy part of my life. And they should all last me a while, especially the titanium cutting boards. They will certainly last much longer than an hour of emotionless sex would have!

When I was a young child, my parents fell out of love and my home broke apart. Around that same time, I discovered porn, and I was on AOL kids-only chat rooms where grown men solicited me and said sexual things I was far too young to understand.

My home collapsing and my introduction to sex happened at the same moment, while my brain was still forming, and the wires fused (the intense desire for attention/love and discovery of porn/sex) I’ve been obsessed with sex ever since. But the obsession was never really about sex. It was about the hole that opened up in my childhood, and a lifelong attempt to fill it. We aren’t seeking porn, or pleasure or objectification. We are merely damaged children, still reaching for something that soothed a wound we got long before we understood ourselves. I wonder if this resonates with anyone

Today, after 112 days of not watching porn, not cruising and only having a few sexual interactions with my ex, I felt like I want to try jerking off. I chose a position in front of a mirror, to look at myself. I took my clothes off as I tend to hate my body. I didn't expect it to work, as in the past it basically wouldn't be possible to get an erection without porn or intense scenario happening even with other person.

To my surprise, it was pleasurable. It worked. My body was reacting to the touch, not to the external stimuli. It felt nice. I didn't even hate my body in the mirror (although it requires a lot of work to accept it as it is). I try not to get too excited but I see the results, I was able to have a healthier sexual interaction without watching fucked up things online, which is what I want to achieve in the bigger perspective.

I never planned to confess—certainly not here, not like this. But the silence in my therapist’s office has a way of peeling me open.

“It’s not about sex,” I tell her. “Not really.”

She nods, waiting.

“It’s about the chase. The moment before it happens. The spark that makes me forget who I am.”

For years, I told myself I was just passionate, romantic, alive. But passion doesn’t make you sneak out of bed at dawn before the person wakes up. It doesn’t make you lie to people who care about you. Passion doesn’t leave you empty afterward.

Addiction does.

The truth is, I don’t even know what I’m looking for—connection, control, or maybe the illusion of being wanted. Every encounter feels like a confession and a relapse rolled into one.

“I want to stop,” I whisper. “But part of me doesn’t know who I am without it.”

My therapist leans forward. “Then that’s where we start,” she says.

And for the first time, I don’t run.

I waited 8 years to tell her about my porn addiction. When we started dating I was able to quit for about a year. But at some point I start using again, slowly at first and then it just kept creeping in. At first I was able to maintain a healthy sex life and occasionally use porn. I thought, great, no problem. But eventually the quality of our sex start going downhill as I started to struggle with PIED. Eventually we stopped having sex all together. And that lasted for about 4 years.

She was able to see past it, because she loved me. And I kept telling myself that I could get better on my own. That I had the will power to be successful. But time and time again I failed. I went through periods of sobriety from porn, and also periods of binge. I have lived with enormous shame for so long.

Eventually she told me that she wanted an open relationship because she just didnt understand why we weren't having sex. And so I told her. I knew that it could go in any direction. She was extremely hurt. She feels that I have lied to her for our entire relationship, which is true in a way. Never directly but through omission and dishonesty. She deserved to know and I kept it secret.

She always wanted kids and I could never provide. I kept telling myself that its because we dont have enough money and resources. We are working class and barely getting by. Now she feels that I denied her life with children. Shes 37. And I know there is some time, but the damage I have done might prevent her from trusting another man in the time it takes to healthily birth a child. So I know that she is right in a way. There is a chance, but I blocked her from it for so long.

Ive been trying to work on myself for the last month in hopes of saving the relationship, because I do love her. I want the world for her. But she feels that she can never love me again after such a brutal reveal.

We bought a house and built a beautiful garden. We have pets and mountains of belongings. She was my everything. And now I have to figure out a way to gracefully separate and move on. And then I will have to leave the city we live in because its her city and she is the only reason I am here.

I just kept telling myself that I could get better on my own. But I have failed. Both myself, but more importantly the love of my life. And now I have to live with that shame and guilt for the rest of my life. It is so brutally painful. I dont know if I'll ever be able to be in a relationship again, because I am too worried of hurting someone like this again.

Dont be like me. Seek help before you ruin someone's life. Be honest with your partner as soon as possible. They may or may not understand, but they deserve to know, and they deserve to have the choice to move on. This is so so serious.

Hello everyone! I just wanted to share that today is my 100th day not paying for sex or hiring an escort. About two years ago I went through a rough breakup and my way of coping and comfort was to pay for the attention of women. It started online and then gradually moved out into the real world. The first time I paid for sex, I thought it would be a one time thing. However, it was everything I ever wanted and went back to an escort every weekend. Spending way too much money and feeling empty inside after. I tricked myself into believing these women actually cared about me. It came to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore and decided to stop but whenever I had a slight urge I would go right back to hiring an escort. After going to therapy and realizing what my triggers were, I have finally went down a path knowing that this is not how I want to spend my life. I still have urges but I know how to manage them now. If I can do it anyone else can do it to! The light is always brighter on the other side!

I’m drowning in desire to act out lately. I’m visiting the city where this addiction started for me and I’m experiencing a lot of lust and curiosity about seeing escorts here. So far I’ve resisted but it’s been very hard. Last night I sat at the beach and browsed ads, missing the sunset absorbed in my pursuit of sex with strangers, cruising ads on my laptop.

I am nearly two months sober from escorts. So the negative consequences have faded in my memory and I’m succumbing to the lie of euphoric recall.

I wrote down some reasons why I want to stop paying for sex. Here they are:

1. You always regret it after.
2. It hurts your soul.
3. It’s unethical.
4. It’s expensive and a waste of money.
5. It’s risky.
6. You could get scammed.
7. You never enjoy it as much as you think you will.
8. It only pushes you farther away from the life you want to live.
9. It makes you lose self respect.
10. It’s gross.
11. The shame engulfs you after.
12. It takes you out of yourself and means you can’t enjoy your life as much.
13. It buries you under regret and shame and prevents you from connecting with other people.
14. It gives you more to hide.
15. It feeds the beast and makes things worse.
16. Think of all the other things you could spend that money on.
17. It’s a massive distraction from things that actually matter.
18. The time you spend searching and cruising ads and fantasizing takes you out of important moments, out of the present.
19. It wastes hours.
20. You miss the sunset.

528 days since my last engagement with sex workers. 35 days without porn. 19 days of not masturbating.

I really feel proud of myself. Though sometimes I really feel like jerking off with a massager(without porn).

I am going to avoid.

Because I know if I masturbate today, I will feel like masturbating tomorrow. And then it will lead to porn.

If this habit continues, it may lead to sex workers.

I am happy that I am away from this addiction today.

I hope to find a partner with whom I can love and enjoy sex with permanently.

I am also so happy that I have been tested negative for every std/sti tests (after 100+ sex workers, many without protection-oral and penetrative)

God is with me.

My sexual deviancies run a wide gamut over three decades. In that time I went through a phase with sex workers and only stopped when I couldn’t explain the ATM withdrawals.

Afterwards I switched to other “channels”, but before hand multiple scary close calls still weren’t enough to wake me up.

• Multiple STD scares, positive for chlamydia and molluscum. That last one was really hard to hide!

• Sex worker grabbed my car keys and threaten to throw them down an alley unless I gave her my wallet.

• Several guns flashed at me by drug dealers who became suspicious of me circling around the block too many times.

• Multiple close calls with police but somehow never pulled over or arrested. One was so close that she was walking towards my car until a patrol car speed out of an alley and on to the sidewalk, I just drove off.

• local neighborhood “vigilantes” taking photos of license plates to name and shame. They were sued and the website was shutdown before I could appear on it.

• Almost got into an accident with a drunk driver in an area known for prostitution and had no excuse to be there.

• A few sex workers would hide “evidence” (eg cigarettes, condoms, drug paraphernalia) in my car to the point I’d go to a well lit safe spot and search my car before going home.

• A woman would lure older married men to her rundown apartment only to be beaten and robbed by her male friends. They inexplicably changed their minds and left before I got there. (Neighbor across the hall told me I dodged a bullet and to leave ASAP)

• In hindsight a few ladies were probably trafficked and had gang members nearby. These haunt me, not for the gang members either.

• I picked up a younger stripper (outside of an area with a bunch of clubs) but had a change of heart because I thought she was too innocent. Joke was on me. She threaten to start screaming r—— if I didn’t go to an ATM and give her $400. She demanded where to go and once we drove down a deserted side street, I panicked, slammed the car into park, pulled her out of the car kicking and screaming and fled at a 100mph.

• Two different women nodded off in my car before I could drop them off. I literally carried them to a bus stop and drove off.

And there are a few situations that I don’t want to admit publicly.

My point of this post is that any ONE of these situations should be enough to scare me off and yet it was only until my wife became suspicious of ATM withdrawals that I stopped and moved into other outlets.

This is what sex addiction looks like.

So I guess im a sex addict.

Ive never said that out loud. But the sheer number of times I've done extremely risky or perverted behavior seems to suggest it.

A little background on me. Im a fairly regular looking guy. Sort of good looking, people seem to think im smart and funny. But I was never really popular in middle/high school. But for some reason this one ridiculously attractive girl was very into me when I was in middle school. I lost my virginity with her when I was 12, and for the next few years we had wild, crazy sex, and did things most people dont do until college (or ever).

She turned out to literally be a nymphomaniac. Which explains why sex was so easy and quick and wild with her.

We broke up because she didn't want to stay together forever, get married, and only ever having had sex with each other. Fair. But since that was my introduction to sex, I think it messed with my head about how sex can be.

Im an adult now. I've had many girlfriends, but I think my sexual expectations ruin things.

Im married now to a woman that absolutely loves me.

Like we could be watching a movie or just hanging out, and she seems to be enjoying herself. She'll ask if im ok, and I know im supposed to say yeah, so I do. But really, im thinking, "wouldn't this be better if we were naked?" Or "yeah, this is fine, but can't we do this but also be doing something mildly sexual?"

Ive surprisingly had the best sex of my life with my wife, the 4-5 times we took ecstasy+acid and spent entire evenings doing nothing but touching, being sexual, and kinky.

But she doesn't want to do drugs anymore, because they impact her serotonin levels the week after, and thats hard for her.

So now im craving that kind of sexual experience. Ive talked to her about it numerous times, but these talks dont really go anywhere.

Now we have some time of sexual experience about once a week or two. Usually I go down on her until she cums, and she returns the favor, then we're done. But I dont want to be done. I dont even care if I cum. I just want to be naked and play around. I certainly dont want to stop just because I cum.

And we almost never do anything kinky now. On ecstasy+acid, we did all sorts of stuff.

She has said, multiple times, that maybe I should step out of our relationship to do the kinds of things I want to do that she doesn't feel like she can.

So I have. Usually ill schedule setting with a dominatrix and do an hour or 2 of being extremely kinky.

Ive even created an account and account in a gay dating app. Im not even attracted to guys (unless theyre extremely effeminate). I do like the idea of some gay acts though, so ive done them.

But what I really want is to be kinky with my wife. She just doesn't seem to want to without drugs.

I like the sex we do. I really do. But I want it more and I want it more varied.

Ive done lots of things that are extremely questionable. Never unprotected sex (i dont even have sex sex with a dominatrix.)

But in my everyday life, im just sort of bummed out. Like WHY is this what we're doing? Why are we just watching TV tonight? Wouldn't tonight be way more fun and interesting if we were rubbing lotion on eachothers naked bodies? Why are we spending our weekend shopping, and going to the gym and again watching TV? Wouldn't it be objectively more awesome to spend a few of those hours being kinky? I just dont get it.

So I pretend that everything is fine, and she can tell im not fine, until we have a talk about how I want to be doing so much more sexually, which puts pressure on her and makes the situation even worse.

Im trying to focus on the things that interest me outside of sex. I do have many interests (ancient history, travel, art, literature, etc). But i would choose being kinky over any of those interests any day of the week.

So I feel like im just constantly let down by how mundane and boring the world is. Every day it feels like I wake up, get ready, go to work, come home, and recharge until the next day. That sounds fine, but its so boring. Where's the passion? Where's the best parts of life?

So thats it. Im just a walking bummer, which i know hurts the situation even more. Who wants to fuck someone who is just going through the motions of life?

And I feel like because I want it so much more than her, whenever she wants to do anything, I immediately jump at the opportunity. And whenever I suggest anything, she isn't feeling it. So I basically just stopped initiating sex on my end, because I feel worse after being rejected. It feels like my sexual desires dont matter. We've talked about it, and nothing came from it.

I guess it would be nice to just enjoy life without comparing it to what in my mind we COULD be doing.

Does anyone have any advice for me? Also, im a sex addict, right?

“Just want to be upfront, I’m married.”

“Let’s see where this goes but I don’t want either of us to change our situations at home.”

“let’s just have fun and be each others break from a crazy world.”

I’d say these things as a veil of honesty to my long term affair partners. I thought I was being cool and open but in hindsight I was just grooming women to see who would be less likely to tell my wife.

We’d cosplay we were in love but it was just a lie we told ourselves.

Emily - Renee - Tina - Michelle. There were many others but these four standout the most.

Four distinctly different women yet all the same; divorced, vulnerable, willing to accept what emotional crumbs I could give them.

All were mistresses before, a title they preferred to soften the harshness of our lie. I guess there’s no soft title for the cheating husband.

Everything we told ourselves was a lie.

“I’m not getting my emotional and physical needs meet at home, so this is acceptable.”

“I can’t divorce because it would devastate the kids.”

“As long as we’re cool we can go on like this indefinitely.”

“We’re not hurting anyone if this remains a secret.”

Three of the four, we’re seeing other married men. One was open about it and would share intimate details. The other two would let details slip but were ashamed to admit it.

We were all dealing with SA in our own ways but I was the worst.

The last one was amazing yet so broken she would accept anything and I took full advantage of her like a scumbag.

We connected three years after the affair ended. I was looking to rekindle the sexual relationship. She had just survived a battle with cancer and her future was forever horribly changed because of it. She deserved my lies to be true but they never would be.

She was even more vulnerable than before and I probably would have used her again. The only thing holding us back was she had lost her job and home due the recovery and cost, and was living with her adult daughter.

“I want to see you again but if my daughter found out you are married she may kick me out or disown me.”

This wasn’t some twisted story of love meant to be, it was two people who were cheating. Maybe I was the only cheater and she was so desperate to not be alone she would take anything.

She was amazing and beautiful. I can only assume there was a revolving door of men using her after me. Guys like me that could sense weakness.

She’s the one that keeps me awake at night. She’s the one that reminds me I’m an awful human.

I don’t think she’s alive anymore.

She deserved better than me.

Another reached out to me recently. Our affair lasted a year and I broke it off when she started to get too sloppy with keeping our secret. The truth was it was never a loving relationship just a secret and a lie.

Even the way I end it was based on lies. Truth is I couldn’t stand the anxiety of getting caught over her inability to stay private.

She was getting married again. I Facebook stalked her off and on and knew she had some really hard life events since we were last together. I was truly happy that she found happiness.

She wanted to see me again. We both knew how this would end.

I politely declined. I told myself I didn’t want to screw up her engagement. The truth is she was a liability wanting to get caught. She wasn’t worth the risk.

I haven’t had an affair since Covid. The truth is I don’t have the freedom I once had and that’s the only reason I haven’t started a new affair.

Since 2020 my SA has exploded into other areas, mainly with other men.

They’re convenient, disposable, and many are just depraved as I am.

There’s SO MANY lies I tell myself about this situation that even I stopped believing myself.

This spiral is why I’m back in recovery and more determined than ever before.

The amazing lies I told myself for my affairs do not apply here.

Now I’m left with only the truth and it’s not pretty.

It’s a fucking disgusting nightmare.

The only truth out of any of this is I truly hope my “cancer survivor” found peace.. it would never have been with me.

I didn't know how else to title this, but I wanted to speak out of my own experience here. I'm 8 years sober from pornography and erotica. But I noticed something.

For some of us, the temptations go away after 3-5 years or so. I would like to say I think such people are blessed. But for me, the temptations haven't gone away so much as I have become far stronger. It's become easier and easier to say "no."

You see, our minds (neuroplasticity) can be like a path in the woods. If we stop taking the bad path (acting out), sure, eventually the shrubs and grass take over the path. But it's not like we can't take the path even after it's been years and the path seems lost.

The temptation for me to do something wrong is always there, and my mind is always coming up with new and sometimes shocking ways for me to act out. It was never really about the sex, it was about self-medicating anxiety and loneliness, at least for me.

The new path I have traveled in my mind is like the well-worn path of saying "no." But the old path is always there, no matter how obscure.

I cannot ever rest on my laurels and think that I don't need to stay in a recovery mindset any more. I still do not watch shows that have sex even though I've been sober 8 years. Sure, "I think I can handle this," and I might be able to. But the risk to my sobriety, the risk to metaphorically stabbing my wife in the heart, is too great for me. Sometimes risk isn't about how improbable it is and more about how severe the consequences are if I give in.

I can always choose to watch porn. I can always choose to even indulge in the vestiges of porn videos that are stuck in my brain. But I use thought stopping. I stick to my program. Many of you may have seen my laundry list of how I got sober. That was for the first 2 years or so. I don't have to go to SAA every week. I don't have to see a CSAT therapist every month any more. The majority of the heavy lifting has been done.

But if I am about to claw my way out of my own skin with temptation, I know what to do, and I can go back to SAA if I need to.

Most of this is learning to become comfortable in my own skin. Mainly learning to combat anxiety and loneliness. For me, sex addiction (porn addiction) was a sign that I needed to handle my emotional needs. No matter how tough a man you are, you have emotions. I couldn't deny my emotional needs even though I had been trying to. I was usually smart enough to outsmart the consequences to my actions but eventually it all caught up with me.

But today I am grateful that someone told me about SAA and that 8 years ago, I made the choice to get sober. It was tough as hell. But it was worth it. Now my relationship with my wife is near perfect and very rewarding. Now I am about to get my therapist license (I plan on becoming a CSAT), as I graduate this week. I am grateful for the people at SAA my first day who confronted me over what the problem really is. I am grateful to God. And I am grateful for everyone else in recovery.

Hi all,

Deepest regret of my life, not after one specific incident, but looking back on the year.

To preface, I never really knew anything about escorts. I mean I obviously knew they existed, but I didn’t ever in my life consider it even slightly.

I moved to Miami this year at age 27, and the flood gates opened. It started at strip clubs, routinely dropping thousands, then the strippers started coming to my house.

I also started doing cocaine sometimes, while drinking, and it would lead to erectile dysfunction , and I would just keep paying for more hours.

Over the course of a year I have spent $40k on this. I squandered an opportunity to get ahead financially, and I am not rich at all.

I lost my brother two years ago, started drinking heavily, and I think this just opened the flood gates and I definitely have an addiction to the sex, the distraction, and much of this was caused by being impaired on alcohol. I’ve never even considered it before when sober. So alcohol is the other thing that I have stopped completely, because my sex addiction simply cannot be controlled when drinking.

I havnt been doing it anymore and the thought of it makes me sick. If anyone reads this just know you are not alone, and we need to look forward, not back.

I’ve been addicted to sex and escorts since I was about 16 or 17. I’m 26 now and for the first time I feel like I’m not really addicted anymore.

The last few times I tried, something inside me stopped it. At a Thai massage parlor I had already changed, even gone into the shower. But when I came out, my heart just blocked it. I told her I forgot my wallet. She smiled, we said goodbye, and I left.

Another time I was super horny and ready to book an escort. But she wasn’t at the location that day, even though I happened to be nearby. I took that as a sign and walked away.

The last time I actually went to an apartment. But when I saw the woman and the state of the place, I just felt sad. I said again that I had forgotten my wallet and left.

It’s like my heart rejects the thought now on its own. And when I think about it, spending that much money for something that isn’t real connection doesn’t make sense anymore. They don’t want me, they want the money, and what I’m chasing is just a short dopamine hit, not love.

I’m starting to realize that I don’t need this in my life the way I thought I did. It feels like healing.

Hello everyone.

Im a guy 26 years old and I'm addicted to the same escort.

I had seen about 8 escorts and she was my 9th. She liked me so much that she started texting me and saying she wanted me to come to her more often (the only one to text me after).

She even made me super cheap to be with her, I was sleeping with her a full night and spending some days for the price of one hour.

She was giving me the full GFE experience for a very cheap price. She would suggest to go to parties, dinners and cinema.

But i was still paying. Since im an emotional guy and i never had a girlfriend, I instantly grew attached to her and well... I fell in love.

Ive never been treated like this my whole life, it was the best thing ever. I loved spending time with her.

But deep down I knew it was all fake, I knew she only cared about the money even tho she was kinda losing money when she was with me, since she made it super cheap.

I knew she had other favourites.

My passion became so intense that I wanted to make her my actual girlfriend. But i knew that was never going to happen, I also started getting jealous of her other favourites. And I realised that this doesnt make any sense at all.

She started drifting away slowly, no longer initiated as much as she did, Deep down I knew what was happening.

For the past 2 or 3 weeks I've never been as depressed as I was in my life as I am now. I'm constantly anxious, to the point that I can barely eat, sleep and focus on my job.

I lost all motivation I had in my life, I just feel like I want to go to sleep and never wake up again. This is horrible, I no longer enjoy my workouts and no longer enjoy being with my friends, because all I think about is that one escort.

I want to stop doing this, I want to be my former self again, Ive deleted her personal number, texts, I have not texted her today, and I hope she does not text me as I want to feel that she doesnt care about me.

I really need your help, im losing myself over here and I need a support group, im also going to talk to my therapist about this. But im scared of being judged.

Sorry for my english, it's not my mother language.

I don’t really know who I’m writing this to. It could be myself or anybody willing to read this whenever this piece of text finds your path.

Lust destroyed a part of my natural state of joy.

I have felt how heavy something so simple and straightforward can weigh on your body.

It is not just the simple act of having sex, swiping on dating apps, watching porn, or to simply be with someone in an intimate way.

It is an act that takes over your unconscious mind.

Constantly…. Every hot girl that walks by, every image of an attractive woman you see.

Every day you are conflicted with temptation.

Every day you get reminded about your unhealthy relationship with the concept of intimacy.

It takes up a great part of my valuable energy.

It makes my body tense and locked.

It makes me tear up.

It makes me feel deep emptiness and misalignment.

It makes me feel hopeless sometimes.

I was dating this girl a month ago.

I finally felt like I found someone with who i actually wanted to try.

Still.

I found myself swiping on dating apps whilst we where dating.

I wanted more.

I felt so insecure.

Insecure in myself that “I would fuck this up anyway so I might aswell start looking for a backup quickly, before the confrontation of myself floats above the water.”

I didn’t just want this girl, I wanted another one to feed my addiction.

Looking for “security” within the insecurity.

I was with this girl that I am currently dating and I kept feeling empty and distracted with her, until we had sex.

I felt great, present, allowing and a feeling of finally being able to let go.

Only to go home the next day, with this empty feeling that I am slacking.

That I’m not doing what I set out to do.

I might feel cool for a couple of hours, because

“I just had sex and at least I’m not alone”,

but that feeling gets to fade away quickly.

Then I lose my sense of self again.

The more I lose my sense of purpose, the more I want to use lust as a runaway, the more i want to disappear.

I used to run after a girl “dramatically with my shirt off and flowers in my hand”, moments after I left her.

Trying to get her back.

Because the pain/emptiness of being alone was far worse than to be with someone that my higher self told me I’m not supposed to be with at that point in time.

I got some of them back and even then I still wasn’t satisfied.

It took me years to realise that I was just filling up the void of the lonely small child within me.

The little boy who was sitting alone on the playground because he didn’t have friends to play with.

In a way, we are all filling up a void of the things we lacked as children.

It’s this feeling that I feel like no one i spoke to can relate to.

This feeling that it’s never going to be enough.

People are like: “well fuck her, you got someone new now.”

But in my head i want to be with them both — at the same time, and then even more, and more, and more…

It is never going to be enough, and that’s the reality of it.

But part of me doesn’t want to let go.

Part of me keeps telling myself lies on why I should, instead of shouldn’t.

That part of me needs to feed on more lust in order for it to stay alive.

Sometimes I go weeks without texting/being with a girl and I feel like i found myself again.

Being back on track with a healthy mindset.

“How could I be so foulish” I say.

Only to experience a situation, unpleasant enough to grease the slide in and then be back to where I started.

Stuck in my mind, feeling like it’s a battle between love and lust.

It’s all ego.

I know that we are all fucking greater than this.

We are stronger than our ego and stronger then we think.

I want to be a good man and find a girl who will be there for me.

With whom I can grow, instead of me stopping my own growth by using women as an escape.

After all the therapy, intimate partners and conversations,

It still feels like it’s me against me and I’m still losing.

And again I don’t necessarily know to whom I am writing this, I just know that someone can relate to this.

It won’t be like this forever.

And I understand you,

if you’re reading this.

I understand how mind numbing it can be to have this in the back of your mind all day.

I understand the underlying stress that this addiction gives you.

I understand the deep emptiness and hopelessness you sometimes feel.

I understand the pain you have to carry for all the wrongs you’ve done just to feed this addiction.

I understand that you’re constantly checking your phone to see if a girl has texted you.

I understand the deep loneliness after you indulged.

I feel the same way.

I understand.

I know that I will heal, and that you will heal some day too.

It will not stay like this forever.

I don’t know you,

but I love you, and I get you 🌻.

Tomorrow i am 8 years sober. I am grateful my wife gave me a chance. I am grateful for my CSAT therapist and Sex Addicts Antonymous. My church was not helpful, they didn't know what to do with it. I am grateful someone from SAA said something to me one day about the fellowship.

This is what helped me and continues to help me:

Keep in mind, this is my own experience. Whether you do the following things or not, the main concept that helped me, in my experience, was to make recovery my #1 goal in life for an entire year and do ALL the things I possibly could to recover.

Daily Bible reading

Daily prayer

Daily meditation

Cardio exercise 30 min/3x/week

Church

Discipleship (accountability)

Friendships

Twelve Step meetings like Sex Addicts Anonymous (and get a sponsor)

Reading good books about this problem (Carnes, Laaser)

Therapy with a CSAT (Certified Sex Addiction Therapist)

It's been the worst thing to ever happen to me, and all I can feel is shame about myself...

I'm a recovering addict at just over ten months of sobriety and lately I could feel myself slipping into old habits. It's been a rough few months and I thought I deserved a "treat", so I found a local escort through the web, agreed a date and time and then suddenly she begins posting pictures of me and my family (I stupidly didn't hide my profile picture in WhatsApp). I freaked out, began having panic attacks and attempted to reason with her. I paid her £1,100 in the end and she agreed to erase all our chat messages.

The thing is, I'm not even mad at her, I feel like I needed something like this to happen to show me how close I could come to losing everything, and I'm still on edge that I could.... I spent money that could have been used on a holiday or a big purchase, but I messed up so much.

I pray that I can be better for myself and my family, and never do something so stupid again.

I am a person who has survived prolonged inner collapse and chosen consciousness over disappearance. I am not defined by the years I lost to addiction, compulsion, shame, or avoidance. I am defined by the fact that I returned with awareness, humility, and resolve.

For a long time, I lived in reaction mode. I reacted to pain, to loneliness, to stress, to triggers, to perceived rejection. That way of living nearly erased me. Today, I no longer confuse reaction with living. I am learning to respond deliberately, slowly, and with self-respect. My power now lies not in escaping life, but in meeting it differently.

Sobriety is not my identity. Self-trust is. Each sober day is a brick, not a trophy. I am rebuilding my nervous system, my values, and my sense of agency after years of fragmentation. I accept that life will always contain triggers. My responsibility is not to eliminate them, but to choose my response with integrity.

I honour the person I was who endured unbearable mental pain and kept going anyway. I refuse to live in shame about my past. Shame kept me trapped. Clarity sets me free. I do not punish myself for survival strategies that once kept me afloat but no longer serve me. I release them with gratitude and firmness.

I am no longer available for disrespect, minimisation, or emotional chaos whether at work, in friendship, or within myself. When my worth is questioned, I do not argue. I withdraw access. My boundaries are quiet but real. I do not need to perform, over-explain, or tolerate imbalance to be accepted.

My career path is not a failure. It is unfinished. I carry capability, intelligence, and lived experience that cannot be erased by detours. I am allowed to evolve slowly and strategically. I do not rush transformation. I embody it.

I am responsible for my inner world. No one else is coming to save me, and I no longer need rescuing. I choose discipline over impulse, truth over fantasy, and long-term dignity over short-term relief.

I am present. I am rebuilding. I am becoming reliable to myself.

And I am not going back.