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To tell the whole story, I’d need to write a book. A very long and fucked-up book. We’ll call this, the ultra, ultra abridged version.So, I’ve decided I might as well start a little blog of my own. Not sure I’m going to do much with it, but we’ll see. In my first blog post, I’m going to tell a little bit of my story. This is kind of long, but it obviously has huge chunks of things left out that I’d like to have left in. To tell the whole story, I’d need to write a book. A very long and fucked-up book. We’ll call this, the ultra, ultra abridged version.
Anyway, about me. I am a pedophile in my early 40’s and my life has not been easy. I understand that most people’s lives aren’t easy, but then most people aren’t cursed with the least desirable form of sexuality imaginable. The good news is, I have never acted on my pedophilic attractions. Specifically, I am primarily attracted both emotionally and sexually to preteen boys but also to girls in the same age range, although not quite as much. I see my pedophilia as a burden and a curse and every single day is a struggle.
I come from a background of childhood sexual abuse and bullying. I won’t get into the details of that too much, because then this would get too long. I will say that I was never the victim of an adult pedophile offender though. Most of the molestation and abuse I was subject to came at the hands of older kids in my neighborhood. To this day, I am sometimes hesitant to call what happened sexual abuse, and instead find myself more comfortable with the term “sexual bullying”. However, when I’ve used that term with other CSA survivors, some have been quick to point out that bullying is abuse, therefore sexual bullying is sexual abuse. Either way, I know the experiences I had as a child were sexually traumatic, and had a profound impact on my sexual and emotional development.
Because of a lot of the things that had gone on, I spent my preteen years obsessed with sex and pornography, and the sexual frustration, confusion, and shame this created ate at me. If only I’d at least known how to masturbate to orgasm, perhaps this would have lessened the frustration a little but I didn’t know how. I only knew how to “play with myself”, and I did that a lot, but didn’t find it all that satisfying. I felt like I needed release, but I didn’t know how to achieve it and it drove me crazy. Through all of the sexual teasing, tormenting, bullying and abuse I experienced as a child, I never once had been brought to orgasm. I don’t think I even truly knew or understood what one was until the day I actually achieved one.
Finally, when I was very close to my 13th birthday, I figured it out. After that I began masturbating every day. Sometimes to pictures in lingerie catalogs. Sometimes to fantasies of pretty girls at school. I would have masturbated to pornography but I generally only had access to that when other kids were around and didn’t want to jerk off in front of them.
This habit of jerking off to lingerie catalogs and fantasies of girls I knew went on for about a year. Then, in my 8th grade year, a few months before my 14th birthday, something changed. I don’t know what the fuck happened. I don’t know how or why the switch was suddenly flipped in my mind. All of the sudden, out of the blue, boys started to look good to me. At first, it was just a little, but within probably a month of having my first sexual thought of a boy, they were all I thought about or masturbated to.
It didn’t make any sense. I had never been attracted to other boys at all before. Not even a little, tiny bit. At first I thought I was becoming gay, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that wasn’t it. I was nearly 14 and now well into puberty. The boys that suddenly looked good to me were all younger. Only ones with prepubescent features. After that, I grew up….. my attraction did not.
So, on into my teen years I went with this horrible new affliction ripping me apart inside. I had no frame of reference for the things I thought and felt, other than the horrible things you’d hear on the news about child molesters. I thought I knew shame and self-hate before then but this brought those to a whole new level. I had been dealing with suicidal thoughts since I was in the fourth grade, but now my suicide ideation became almost more of an obsession. What had I become? How could I be this sick and this hopeless? I was a pedophile. I had become a true creature of evil. The worst possible form of life. What had I done to deserve this fate and this level of torment?
For the first year or so of knowing and understanding that I was a pedophile, I was terrified that I was doomed to become a child molester. Surely prison awaited me some day. Surely everyone who had these types of thoughts and attractions acted on them eventually, right? There was no denying to myself what I was, and there was only one way I thought that could end.
However, by my mid teens, I had resolved to myself that I would never become one of those dirty, creepy men you hear about on the news molesting little boys. I knew I wasn’t like that and I didn’t want to be that. At the time, I still figured probably everyone else on the planet who was afflicted with the types of attractions I had must act on them. I was going to be the one who didn’t though. I was going to break the mold. I was going to be the one who beat this thing, and the one who wouldn’t let it make me become a child molester, even if I was the only one in the world.
At 18, I disclosed to a friend of mine about my childhood sexual abuse and about my pedophilia, all in the same conversation. I had decided to kill myself that night and I intended to. I don’t know what convinced me to call him that night and disclose before I went through with it but I did. I couldn’t believe I was telling someone but the words just started flowing out of me, as did the tears. I remember sitting in a fetal position with the phone to my ear, tearing at my hair and sobbing while I told him everything. He convinced me to come to his house that night and sleep over to keep me safe. He also told me he could hook me up with his family’s therapist.
I visited the therapist he hooked me up with for about a year and a half. If it hadn’t been for my sessions with him, I don’t know if I’d be here today. He really helped me sort some things out, put some things in perspective and get some things off my chest. However, I went to him with the false hope that therapy could fix me. That it could cure my pedophilia. Of course it couldn’t. Nothing can cure it.
Since then, not much about my sexuality has changed. I am more or less exclusively attracted to preteen boys. Preteen girls are attractive to me as well, only not quite as much as boys. I have no sexual attraction to adult women at all. I am not necessarily sexually turned off by them but I’m not interested either. Besides, being in sexual situations with them is extremely uncomfortable and triggering. I can’t handle it, and I want to run for the hills. Also, I am completely sexually turned off by men and even boys past puberty. Once they are pubescent, any and all attraction disappears.
As an aside, how strange is it that my sexual attraction to children just happens to be only to children who are in the age range where my own childhood sexual trauma took place? When they are about 7 or 8, they suddenly become sexually attractive to me. (In rare cases, children of either sex as young as six may trigger an attraction but never younger than that.) Before that, they just look like babies to me. I will say that I absolutely LOVE younger children but only kind of on the same level that I love puppies and kittens. It’s just that specific age, about the same time they loose their baby teeth and start growing their first primary teeth, the attraction starts. Then, at puberty, it ends completely. Starts at 7 or 8, ends at 12 or 13. The same age-range my abuse occurred at. Fucked huh?
My attraction to children isn’t just sexual though. It’s deeply emotional too. I can’t stand to see a little kid who’s hurt, or who looks scared or sad. I can’t stand to see them cry. When I do, all I want in the world is to swoop in, take them in my arms, hold them and make their pain go away. I can’t even watch a movie that has a sad scene involving a little kid without going to pieces and crying all over myself.
Fortunately, when it comes to the sexual aspect of my attraction, I have been blessed with a solid core belief that it is always wrong and harmful for an adult to be sexual with a child under any circumstances. I actually spent quite a few years posting in “boylove” forums and was not shy about expressing this opinion even there. Needless to say, that did not make me popular in those circles. Guys who will have sex with 10 year olds and try to claim the relationship is “mutual” do not like it when one of their own walks in and tries to shatter their delusions. In fact, they tend to get really fucking pissed.
The good news is, a couple of years ago, I found the forums over at Virped (Virtuous Pedophiles.) Since then, the Virped community has become my life, and I have never been so dedicated to a cause as I am to ours. A support group run for pedophiles, by pedophiles, and one in which the members are all committed to not acting on their attractions is something I would not have dared hope for just a few short years ago. I wish I could go back in time and tell the 15 year old me that this community would exist someday, and that he was not alone in the world. If only there had been a Virped when I was younger man. I’ll never know what kind of a difference that might have made in my life , but I do know that it will make a difference the lives of young pedophiles going forward. Better late than never.
We all know you can not cure pedophilia. Even therapists who’ve been treating pedos for years will tell you that. You can not cure it, you can only hope to contain it. I already contain it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t torment me on a daily basis. Sexual attraction to children is a curse of the worst order. It drives me to drink, it drives me to hate my life, and it has nearly driven me to suicide more times than I can count. There is no hope. It will torment me until the day I die. If there was a magic pill I could swallow that would make me stop being attracted to kids, I’d claw my way through hell to get a hold of it. Unfortunately, the only way to remove it from the brain is to put a gun in your mouth and pull the fucking trigger. How I haven’t done that over all these years is anyone’s guess. Sorry if that’s morbid but it’s true.
In closing, I want to say this. I do struggle with my pedophilia, and I am tormented by it, but the not abusing children part is easy for me. I’ve been alone with kids I was attracted to hundreds of times, (perhaps thousands), and while I’ve had sexual thoughts in those situations, acting on them has never been something I’ve actually been tempted to do. I’ve never really even considered it. The very thought seems not only wrong, but also unrealistic and stupid, for a variety of reasons that I probably shouldn’t have to spell out.
So, that’s my story in a nutshell. It’s certainly no fairy tale, but it’s far from the worst of the stories I’ve heard from some of my friends who also carry this burden. My life has not been great to this point, and I’m far from being what anyone would consider a successful adult, but my hope is that I can use my experiences and the insight they have given me to affect the world around me in positive ways. Through my participation in Virped, and my efforts to be a voice in the wilderness on the topics of pedophilia and CSA, I hope that I can have an impact on others who’ve had their lives affected by these things. In doing so, my ultimate hope is that I/we can affect the world in such a way that fewer people have their lives affected by these things in the first place. Perhaps that’s hoping for a lot, but either way I’m all in, and will continue to be so until the day death mercifully takes me.
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