Letters to the Editor
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A Letter from a 'Survivor'
Nice headline, Cary. I'm sure you've picked up a few pervs trolling for porn to boost your page-hit count.
No, lady, you're not sick for finding a good-looking kid attractive, but you clearly have issues if you are unable to quiet your loins when your teenage stepson is in the room. But I can understand how it happens, because it happened to me.
At 16, I was 'seduced' by the 33 year-old mother of a close friend. I qualify the term 'seduced' for various reasons: for one, I was a willing participant and, to some extent, pursued the liaison: my peer group often socialized at my friend's house because her parents were young and let us drink and smoke pot. My friend's mother was lonely and, in her own way, damaged: though she was financially comfortable (trust-fund + wealthy husband), she gave birth to my friend while still in high school and spent most of her life hence in and out of bad relationships and dealing with substance abuse problems (my friend was really the only grown-up in the house; she'd pretty much had to raise herself while her mom was struggling). She was lonely at home and had trouble making friends in our mostly middle-aged, square suburban environs. Her third husband could be a fun guy to hang out with, but he worked long hours, liked to get loaded with his buddies afterwards, and was a mean drunk, to boot.
I too was lonely and felt like an alien amongst my peers; my best guy friend was dating my best girl friend (daughter of my 'seducer'), leaving me the proverbial 'third wheel.' The affair was nurtured by the fact that the mom and I were often left alone while my two friends were upstairs experimenting. Booze and drugs on the table, the whiff of sex upstairs, bored housewife, physically attractive boy (I was a sort of 'ugly duckling' who'd recently bloomed but didn't know it yet)--any adult could see where it was headed. But I was not an adult. Ironically, I felt comfortable flattering and flirting with her because I initially didn't consider her someone I could actually pursue anything with: it felt risk-free.
Eventually, the inevitable happened. For years afterward, when drunk with friends, I'd prattle on, boasting about these experiences, reveling in the predictable admiration and envy of my buddies, who thought it was super-cool that I'd been lucky enough to experience the universal Mrs. Robinson fantasy. It took a lot of time and distance to recognize what a negative impact it had on me, or to accept that, despite my culpability (which I do not deny), I was a victim--perhaps not a victim of what we'd broadly define as 'sexual abuse,' per se, but a victim nonetheless. I was a totally inexperienced, sheltered boy, desperate for love and reassurance and utterly vulnerable. My 'seducer' was, I think, also a victim, of an emotionally abusive marriage. But her actions were still reckless, and the damage palpable.
I started acting out at school and was nearly suspended for making an inappropriately suggestive remark to a teacher around my paramour's age. My grades suffered; I was overlooked for several perfunctory school honors due to the above-mentioned remark. I found myself unable to pursue normal relations with other girls. I lived in perpetual terror of discovery by my parents, by my friend (her daughter), or worse: by her husband, who I felt quite certain would do something violent and drastic if he found out. Because this woman was my sexual initiator, I formed a powerful attachment to her and was terrified both of losing her and of being responsible for ruining her life.
I eventually broke it off out of fear (rumors were getting around). I know many people (my mother, in particular) were suspicious, but the rumors died out. The next year I got my academics back together, graduated, and went to college in another state. Eventually, I was able to see her and spend time around her house on holidays without obvious tension. Eventually I moved away for good and haven't seen her in over 10 years. I suppose we both thought we 'got away with it.'
I have dealt with various dysfunction stemming from this for years, and only recently have I been willing to face up to the fact that this was no mere youthful misadventure. I was the lucky one. My paramour? I later heard that she had formed inappropriately close friendships with at least two other adolescent boys. Again, these were only rumors, but given my experience . . .
Her marriage eventually ended in disaster; she eventually ended up addicted, first to alcohol and speed (trying to hold onto that youthful figure) and then to heroin. After a fourth failed marriage, she's now in recovery and living with her mother.
Read the news. These things do not end well. If you are really struggling, picture yourself ending up like my Mrs. Robinson, or like any of the dozens of misguided older women who fell into sexual relationships with boys and ended up with their mug-shots on the Smoking Gun or on Dateline: NBC. You may think that getting it on with a beautiful boy would be a wondrous experience, but shooting smack is a wondrous experience too. You need to discipline yourself--harshly. You need to seek therapy, ASAP. You need to put some distance between yourself and this boy before you let your hormones get the better of you.
When this thing first happened to me, I thought it was fantastic. Then it terrified me. Years later, I feel damaged and yet lucky to have come away relatively unscathed. My paramour was not so fortunate. If you can't stop desiring your step-son, if you can't do it for your husband or your other child or for the sake of decency, do it for yourself. Once you cross that line, there's no going back.
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Fantasy is not reality
As others have said, it appears that daydreaming about how far her relationship with her stepson might go and how she should handle his (I am guessing, largely imaginary) "feelings" toward her is just a pleasant detour from addressing LW's problematic relationship with her husband. Wouldn't it be nice if the husband, who probably looks like the son and has his mannerisms, were coming onto her the way she thinks the stepson is? Why isn't he? Can that be changed? Or does LW have to change her expectations? Or find a new husband? Surely there are better ways to find the answers to these questions than a real or imagined dalliance with the stepson.