Letters to the Editor
MXC 100*193
Published Letters: 39 Editor's Choice: 5
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Guilty guilty it's all about guilt. Go on forgive yourself.
[Read the article: Have I ruined my karma by sleeping with prostitutes?]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]To all you other posters out here who think this man is a cockroach for buying sex when his wife apparently wasn’t up to it: Get real. Men and women see sex differently. That’s why it’s the oldest profession, and it'll survive long after we've all evolved into, well, whatever the next thing is. But it's a shocking horrid thing for a wife to learn about her husband, though not all wives will react the same to such news. So I'd be extremely wary about telling.
Letter writer, reading your letter again (after responding earlier) I’m struck by how guilty you feel about your years of using prostitutes. Many men would’ve just accepted it as a necessary means of scratching an itch. But that Catholic schooling (ie sins of the flesh and eternal damnation/punishment) has definitely seeped its way into your psyche. You’re punishing yourself, big time.
Your problem is a whole lot more than about paying for sex and having a crap job. You left a job and took another one in a different city to your wife. So let’s see. You’re sexually hence emotionally distant from your wife, then you go and put physical distance between the two of you for good measure too. Um, why dya do that?! Is that to punish yourself, or because you don’t want to be near her for some reason? Only you know (somewhere inside you) what this is really about.
Karmic? Well, karma is a whole lot more subtle than that, otherwise Georgy and Condy et al would by now have had to endure all their limbs being slowly hacked off with a plastic knife for what they’ve unleashed. Well maybe in another life.
You’ve made bad choices, is all. Maybe there is some sort of gift in all this (cheesy I know, but still…) in that now you’re really faced with yourself. And you don’t have the services provided by the paid ladies anymore to help soothe the inner pain. There must’ve been some sort of internal decision to move out of the rut you’re in and face things more squarely. I reckon you need to ask yourself some really honest questions, and see if you can forgive yourself, and reconnect with your wife. If you can re-form an intimate connection, that’ll give you some solace and something to aspire towards.
If you have friends, or anyone else close to you, now’s the time to ask for help. Because one thing is clear. You’re in a mess, and you need a fresh perspective. If you have no friends, then buy a friend. (I’m meaning a good therapist followed possibly by a good life coach). You’ll find that paying for their services is ultimately more rewarding than those other services you’ve been happy to pay for.
Come to think of it, how about (giggle)... a priest. I'm not joking. Find a modern open-minded compassionate one, because you're wanting absolution for your sins.
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Get really real.
[Read the article: I only feel alive when I'm in danger]
[Read more letters about this article: Here]Oh God, letter writer, I feel so sad to read what you've written. I understand the numb desolation you feel. I've attracted solitude the majority of my life, the way that the desert attracts sand, it seems, and it's lonely when you haven't chosen to be that way.
Seems like you're balancing the deadness in your heart, for the aliveness of danger. That's kind of familiar to me, for other reasons. I grew up in a strict puritanical family, where laughter and joy were seen as signs of the devil. So I had to go numb to survive my family, and for the longest time I could only actually feel alive by inflicting pain and suffering on myself. They were the only feelings I was permitted.
But for you, why not permit yourself other feelings? I agree with Cary's observation that there's a sort of flat deadness and resignation in the tone of your letter. Underneath that deadness, there's probably deep wells of pain and despair. Sometimes it's better to feel those feelings, even though they cut like a knife and hurt like hell, than to go around with a dull cloud around your heart, that deadens you to either sorrow or joy. The cut bleeds like crazy, then it heals. The Depression Book by Zen buddhist teacher Cheri Huber may or may not be your thing, but it's piss easy to read, with just a few simple lines in hand-written script on the page. And if you're interested in how the mind works, then that can be a Zen thing to follow.
One thing that really struck me were some of the reasons you gave for not having much of a future: "I rent as oppose to own, I have no savings, I'm in debt (student loan and credit card),..... for all intents and purposes, I have no future."
No, sorry, those are fictitious reasons for not wanting to live. They're the manufactured drivel of the materialistic society we live in, and you've swallowed them whole. They're about how other people might view you and find you lacking. Who gives a shit?! You want to live dangerously? Then fuck society's norms about what constitutes success, and become a real person. You just have to figure out how.
Stop hurtling towards paralysis, paraplegia and a life-long dependence on having your nappies changed and swallowing your dinner through a straw. Have fun, even dangerous fun, but don't be a fool. Get real.