Adulterers were bottomless black holes of need.
“Tell me I’m beautiful.”
“Tell me, you want me!”
“Tell me I’m great in bed…”
All the insecurities came flooding back when looking for a lover. The years of one-sided marriage without desire made me “thirsty.”
Urban dictionary targeted this word at those who were too needy. No one wanted to be labeled “thirsty.”
I was the first to admit that I was needy. But I tried to cover it up.
I wanted to be told I was beautiful and smart and funny and perfect in every way. My thirstiness was appalling.
Rinseandrepeat on Reddit, described, “Guys: Asking a random chick about her favorite sex toy is thirsty. Assuming a chick is into you because she is polite or nice is thirsty. It’s a turnoff! Don’t do it!” Continuing for girls, “Stalking a guy or his spouse on social media is thirsty. Saying ‘I love you’ on a first meeting is thirsty. Don’t do it!
Guys: If you happen upon a thirsty chick…RUN! That bitch is crazy and will blow up your world and boil your bunny. Remember…don’t put your dick in crazy!
Girls: If you happen upon a thirsty dude…RUN! He has more baggage than a Kardashian and wants to give it to you. Thirsty dudes are how women are turned into a lampshade. He is broken, and you can NOT fix him! Remember…don’t put crazy in you!
“Lampshade!” I laughed out loud. Thankfully, I sat in my parked car, waiting for school dismissal by myself. There wasn’t anything funny about sexual predators, but I was still chuckling.
Reddit’s r/adultery sub would have to wait until later. My teenager sauntered over to our vehicle. I couldn’t have my kid see what I’m doing. The irony of being as horny as a high-schooler crossed my mind.
My life.
Thirsty was sending fifteen unanswered messages. Sending unsolicited dick pics. The problem was that the longer you went without getting laid, the thirstier you became. Years of rejection took their toll.
Desperation had the whiff of fear. And potential affair partners were like dogs and could sniff it out. No one wanted to cozy up to a sad and afraid person. It reeked of failure.
“Are you attracted to me?” I wanted to ask every prospect.
“How badly do you want me?”
“Do you think I am beautiful?”
I would start to type out a thirsty question and stop. Backspace. I wouldn’t press send. I needed to get laid. I’m not desperate. I’m not, I repeated.
I was desperate, but I wouldn’t admit it.
I wanted a man to say he wanted me, desired me, couldn’t stop thinking of me. Masturbated to me. I wanted to be adored.
Adoration was far from happening. Most guys weren’t willing to oblige.
This seemed to be a fair warning. The last label I wanted was thirsty, even if I was. When I began vetting potential lovers, I made a conscious choice to pretend that I was fully hydrated, to not let them know or see any part of my despair.
Many adulterers struggled with this issue.
I wanted so badly…but the r/adultery veterans reminded me that desperation was unattractive.
Being “thirsty” was just the beginning of my adultery journey. I wasn’t as hopeless as I felt. I have so much to offer to a prospective lover. They would be lucky to have me. I’m a gem. I learned my worth.
I curbed my thirst.
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An excerpt from my book, r/adultery: My Year From Sexless Marriage to Adultery.
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This post was previously published on Medium.com.
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