Pull up a chair, give me your undivided attention, and let me tell you a story.
Sometime in 1985... maybe 1986, when I was merely 5 or 6 years old, my father pulled me into my grandmother's living room (who we lived with at the time) and sat me on his lap in her big green upholstered chair. There was nothing abnormal about that... he had done it hundreds of times before then... and did it many times after it as well... but what was frighteningly different, were the tears in his eyes.
He began to speak, and told me how he loved me very much... and how he would always be with me... and how he would never let anything happen to me or hurt me... but then he told me that he and my mother might not be together for very much longer. That he might have to leave... but not to worry... because he would still see me. I don't remember what happened next... I probably just went numb. I know I didn't cry. I could not let him see me cry... he was telling me not to be scared, and I could never let my "daddy" down.
Years went by... but that memory always stuck with me. Though my father became aloof at times, I always did my best to make the most of the times I had with him... because he had warned me that those times might not always come so easily. Then, one day in 1992, I figured it out. And suddenly so many peace's fell together. My father, had AIDS. I don't know how I figured it out... I just remember how clear everything became. And when I asked my mother about it, she told me I was right... but to never let my father know that I knew, because he would be devastated.
That morning in 1985... or '86, which ever it was, was the morning my father was diagnosed. So, he had to come clean to my mother, and explain to her that he had cheated on her... more than once... with men. By 1992, he was beginning to get sick... noticeably sick... and my mother and father fought more... and life was just getting very uneasy. On October 3rd, 1993, my father passed away. I never got to say good-bye. I was only 13. He never got to "walk me down the aisle." He never got to see either of his grandchildren. He was just gone.
All because of a very poorly chosen partner for an extramarital affair.
So, while some maybe able to look at the "porn issues" I have with my husband as a harmless fetish, or whatever... I don't see it that way at all. I don't even truly see it as "porn" - I see it as a possible "tendency" - one that not only threatens my marriage... but my health. I see it as something that strikes a fear and panic so deep into my heart nothing can calm it. And couple that beside the "married and looking" message board crap I found... I am so very close to telling my husband that he has to buy condoms before we will have sex again it makes me want to just break into tears. But then - I can't live my life like that either.
I just want him to acknowledge my fears... ease them... BE WILLING to "walk on eggshells" to make me feel better in ways he has refused. He just expects that I will always be there... that this sort of thing won't drive me away...