I hate myself, I deeply deeply hate myself. And it's not because deep down I'm some mean asshole that treats people or animals badly. I always help

6 years

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I hate myself, I deeply deeply hate myself.

And it’s not because deep down I’m some mean a****** that treats people or animals badly. I always help everyone around me as much as I can, it’s the little things, the little gratitudes that give little sparks of happyness in my life.

But I was born with defects, a combination of which, has made my life a hell many times over. My memory is borderline useless. From birth, I forget and I forget, it has plagued my whole life, lost me so many friend who, despite knowing, at some point just can’t deal with the fact that I’m a terrible friend, because good or bad, I can just forget about significant things. And I get that, I get that it’s a constant frustration to talk me up like some kind of Momento dude who forgets everything.

But I can’t help it..

And then onward to my second problem, one I still don’t know the name of, one that has recently, a few years ago has technically been fixed. But I’ll get into that in a bit.
I was born with some kind of issue that made any contact to my g******* not just a little painful, but the kind of pain you get when you put your finger against a hot pan, frying, hot fire. I had an operation as a child, but that did not fix the issues, so all the doctors came to a conclusion.

“You will grow out of it, just force it, you’re sensitive, and by basically working IT often, it’ll get better”

But it didn’t, the pain never lessened, and with every, even minor encounter, where girls touched me, it hurt so bad, I curled up and cried, obviously, parts of me shriveled like a scared turtle.
All my relationships started with understanding, with a spoken or hidden desire to help, be there. I was a great guy, caring, kind, loving. I learned all kinds of ways to provide pleasure by sure practice, by just forcing it in, to provide it where I lacked, from massaging to all kinds of forms, fit, firm, ignoring my dingaling.

But it was never enough, After a few years, the mixture of me forgetting important dates, things, everything, and the fact I couldn’t quite please them, despite loving my enthusiasm, it wasn’t me, it was just their like, interests that didn’t align.

I tried to push it, force it, will myself, but it just became a desperation where the moment the pain hit, I couldn’t deal with it, no matter how I tried to condition myself.

But then, one doctor suggested I undergo a treatment, it might scar me a little, and it had a 50/50 chance of fixing the issue. The other 50 percent being the possibility of me being in even more pain, constantly, instead of just with someone else.

At this point, I’m 31 with a life of failure behind me, both in the work place as in relationships, the lowest point being a fiancee selling her ring to fly over to a big dicked boyfriend who was also one of my best friends. That one really made me lose my s*** for a long long time.

So I risk it, and it works. The pain is gone, there’s a little bit of sensitivity and in fact, my d*** looks great, some close friends said it looked like quite the tasty sausage.

I am scared, because despite all the skills I do have, I’m pretty much a virgin at the actual s** thing, but I go out there, I date, I drink, I party a little, and I do meet people.

But many many years of trying to focus the pain away have just… Become an automatic reflex. Despite there being no pain, after just a few moments, I go soft, escaping from just the possibility of pain and I don’t know what to do.

I’ve talked to psychologists who basically go “Just try until you figure it out”, friends are clueless, the few I’ve let in on this ‘little’ secret.
And I’m not like, sizually impaired, I’m thick, firm the few moments I am, pretty long, a good size, I like my dingaling… But it doesn’t work, and the disappointment it generates.. The last year was me trying to convince myself, trying to tell myself that it’s just me needing to find the right person.

But I’m getting older every year… And though I have an okay job now, where I earn more than I ever have, and yet not enough to have my own place, where forgetting isn’t as important, because I can figure things out quick, where the few small talents I have sync up correctly.

I’m just wasting my days away, my months and maybe at some point, my years, taking a drink, smoking, having those small happy moments as I don’t like, hermit myself up, I play games, I do social things, little sparks of fun.

I don’t believe in suicide, and for anyone reading this, it is never a consideration for me, even now, suicide is an extreme that goes beyond way more interesting extremes, like say, moving away entirely, leaving this current life behind. Who knows right?

But yeah, that’s why I hate myself, despite all my best efforts, despite barely managing to get a bachelors degree in Biomolecular science because I am actually very very intuitively smart, I get s*** quickly…

I am an absolute failure. I am terrified of getting close to someone because of the ramifications many years down the line. I am s******* inept. Sadly, brain training is not a real thing, and scoring with one of the worst memories ever tested in the country, it has made every higher, more salary earning job impossible. Because I forget things worth thousands of monies.

I should feel lucky though, because the job I found, has great people, a great boss… It is one of few saving graces in this life that I’ve found recently.

But for the rest, for love and the future… It’s a black hole, I don’t have any aspirations, because I’m scared it’s going to break like many times before. I have not told about the many relationships that got smashed and the many friendships ruined in detail.

And I am not saying that various of those instances aren’t my fault, this whole story makes it seem like I’m some kind of heroic, good hearted victim. But I’ve made mistakes, I’ve done stupid things, mean things. I have been a bad friend, a bad boyfriend, a bad everything at times. But I’ve always tried to improve from those mistakes as well.

For a long time, my goal was to just get better, when someone pointed out things, I’d work on getting better, when I said something mean, I’d work on not going in that direction with my thoughts… I’ve tried so hard and it really did nothing for me.

So there, there is no friend in the world that knows all there is to me. Because with all the friendships broken, I’m terrified of risking it. My memory problem is a joke now, on purpose, because making people laugh about it is the best course, despite the immense shame I feel.

I hate myself, and I really, really don’t know what to do, despite all my intelligence, despite being able to dissect machinery and their workings just by looking at it… I can’t figure out how to be happy.

There is more, but, this has been a first for me, being able to just, blurt it all out, even with this I’m scared, I can’t remember all I wrote here without scrolling up… But I can’t chicken out of everything.

Have a good one.

New Confession

I spent a lot of quality time over coffee with my MIL. We talked about anything under the sun for hours. Usually when my wife went out shopping or for lunch with her 2 sisters. One day she seemed abnormally quiet and when i asked what was on her mind she said that she was worried i would leave her daughter because she had heard from the other 2 that my wife had shut down s** in our marriage. She said that she knew i loved my wife but that it was clouding my judgement to accept a marriage witbout s**. I got pretty down about hearing the quiet part out loud at all even worse from my MIL who i had great trust in and respect for. She said that while she knew she should think of her daughter first she worried because she knew that i turned a blind eye to the topic and that she was also aware from the other two that my wife was making snide remarks about me m***********. She said she knew me well enough to know that i would never seek an affair but feared that that made me too vulnerable. As the conversation unfolded i admitted that i had considered paying for s** and she implored me to not do that because of risk of disease. Sad as it was i told her that my biggest reason for avoiding it was that all i would want from an e***** would be to be held and talked to while i masturbated but even then it would feel pathetic and lonely and i would not get the fulfillment of knowing i had given pleasure to someone else. She said she understood and we conversationally moved on to other topics.

Weeks went by and it did not come up again but we were rarely alone. But i should have expected she would bring it up again when the moment and privacy allowed. It was more embarassing for me because she said that one of my sisters in law told her that my wife had been making comments that i was being moody and quiet and that i should probably go to a h***** or j******* or something. I was actually angry about the fact that it was being talked about between the women and my MIL said that she got that but what i should be angry about was that my wife showed such disrespect and disregard to shame me to others especially her family. I had to admit she was right and she told me that both her other daughters had agreed to stop listening when my wife made such comments and to tell her to knock it off. I told her i felt really embarassed because this also meant that my SILs’ husbands doubtless knew my situation and all the comments as well. More weeks went by. The sisters go out shopping and my MIL and i are at her table again talking around the topic and she said the issue was not going to go away. I told her i got that but that there was no changing the situation. She left to go to the bathroom and when she came back as we talked about other things she eventually called me out on having been looking at her cleavage in the neck of her robe. I was so ashamed and tried to apologize but she actually laughed and told me to shut up because she had deliberately been showing her cleavage because she felt i deserved to get a peek at a woman occasionally. Then she did not say another word just looked at me and of course i could not stop looking now. It was not like she had huge breasts but the neck of the robe was open very low. I could not speak at all. She reached to the neck of her robe and pulled it more open and lower. All i could do was keep looking despite how awful i felt about what i was doing. She shrugged the robe off her shoulders revealing her breasts down almost to the n****** and by now i was so nervous and paralyzed sitting there trembling. She smiled at my facinated staring and thanked me fo4 the compliment. We sat there for what seemed forever until she spoke my name to get my attention, and just smiled and nodded at me and told me to not deny myself. Feeling so helpless and pathetic did not stop me from reaching under the table as i sat across from her and opening my pants to touch myself under the table. I was lost, slowly stroking myself as i stared at her breasts and sometimes able to look her in the eye. She told me to take my time and enjoy the view and what i was doing. She could tell when i was getting close, telling me to relax, to let it happen, and when she untied her robe and allowed it to fall off her shoulders and breasts completely i lost it and grabbed the edge of the table so tightly as my other hand milked my pleasure out of me. It was so emotional when she placed her hand on mine on the table edge as i moaned and emptied my desperate lust. When my contractions ended she continued to hold her hand on mine as i caught my breath. All i could do was look at her as she smiled, letting me keep looking as she sat there casually bare breasted and smoking a cigarette, eventually even lighting one for me then going to get me a washcloth then sat back across from me as i sheepishly cleaned myself and closed my pants and my face burned as she giggled as i cleaned my puddle off the floor under the table. She just watched as i rinsed the washcloth nervously and sat back down unable to even look at her. She reached over and stroked my cheek and told me to stop overthinking it. Then she asked me to not talk and to just listen. She told me to not read too much into this, but that it was something that yes felt like a betrayal of her daughter but that it was actually one of my SILs that had the idea and the other one convinced her it was a solution to the problem. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die but she made me promise to try to not be embarassed or ashamed and that the three of them (MIL and both SILs) were on my side so to speak. Otherwise there was no need to overtalk or overthink it whatsoever. Over the next months it happened regularly, my SILs simply told me the next time i saw them that they would never treat me badly but that i needed to be braced for the occasional discreet teasing about it in subtle private ways. The first few repeats were only at my MIL’s initiation, she would simply look at me across the table and smile at me and i would pleasure myself as she slowly bared her breasts. She was never impatient nor made me feel like it was a chore. She slowly began to ramp things up over time. I was so turned on by how she would sit there holding my eyes with hers smoking as i stroked myself. I felt like i would pass out the first time she told me to give it to her, to c u m for her. I obeyed as if hypnotized when she told me to stand up and let her watch. She always made it exciting every time. She started to seductively stroke her breasts as i did so. She started sitting close and eventually put my free hand in her breast. Eventually made a new rule that i be naked when i did it for her telling me i owed her the view. I barely kept my balance the first time she had me stand directly in front of her and held her breasts up and told me to milk myself onto them, even casually having a cigarette aftet as she had me clean her breasts with a washcloth. She eventually had me lay on the sofa as she sat across the room and watched me spend hours pleasuring my body for her. Eventually let me lay my head in her lap suckling and nuzzlimg her breasts as i stroked myself. I realized how emotionally addicted to her i was the day i sat at her table after her daughters left and after they left she walked into her own kitchen completely bare and had me follow her to the bathroom so i could touch myself while watching her shower. Even eventually as she lay covered in a bubble bath as i stood looking down at her and as i got close she lifted her torso to let me empty myself onto her wet breasts then had me watch as under the bubbles she pleasured herself while keeping my eyes locked to her eyes. I cherish the day she waited until they left so she could come into her own living room bare and kneel and watch me as i stroked myself for her to watch, then when she knew i was close, stood and took my hand and led me to her bed. She laid back with open thighs and reached up to me and pulled me close, her arms around my shoulders and her legs lockiing around me as i gasped when i entered her as she said it was ok, to just let it happen, we could take our time the next time.

I deeply value the time that both my sisters in law told me how much they cherished me bringing love and passion to their widowed mother’s life. How she had simply wanted to let me feel like a man again but how it had let her feel what a woman longed for again, a true lover for herself as much as her being my lover. After my MIL passed away those two sisters in law and i grieved together. One of them had divorced, and after several weeks tbey both sat me down and told me that she (the divorced one) wanted to fill their mother’s role in my life and i vowed to them both that i would do everything i could possibly do to bring her the joy that i had had with their mother. I am in my 60s now as they are and somehow it is even more fulfilling as time passes and my SIL and i are lovers just as equally as their mother and i were.

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