I was in my early mid 30’s. My therapy sessions were outdoors and 3 hours long.
My therapist was a drop dead gorgeous woman in her mid 30’s as well.
We went to a park and I sat on a bench, where my feet were on the bench with and my butt on the table. Her feet were on the ground and her butt was on the bench… so… I was elevated to her.
How I could go through 35 years of life and never have this occur to me is a mystery in itself.
I’m looking down as we’re chit chatting and I immediately notice I have a complete unobstructed view of her breast and nipples. She’s even wearing a bra. Wasn’t working.
So I spent 2 1/2 hours staring directly at this super hot woman’s breasts, except when she looked up, then I’d lookup and make eye contact with her. Which was brief that particular day. So basically, I stared at the breasts for 2 1/2 hours. She was a happily married woman who was my therapist, which made it all the more taboo.
The eroticism for me was off the charts.
We met about twice a week for a couple years and I’d actually maneuver her so that I could stare at her nipples every time I saw her. She had no clue.
The moral of this story is… I have long since had to regret those memories because it violates the pleasurable exclusive access problem at anyone’s expense.
She doesn’t care her husband gets to see her at will and she gets to see her husband at will, excluding many others.
That’s when I found out I was different than almost 100% of the human population and that almost 100% of the human population are sociopaths.
I’d have rather travelled back in time and taught myself what I know now, than to have had those many moments with her.
I think that therapy was extremely succesful and then afterwards something happened that caused a relapse.
Maybe it was a small case of a broken heart, which is just a thing that happens to anybody.
Nipples are beautiful. That she had a husband and was happy with him and still granted you this gift was a greath show of health, and itself the message. If you think she wasn’t aware, you are incorrect.
This one in particular seems to have taken it upon herslef to get you to fall back in love with life. Slowly. She must have noticed that you had severe paranoia and distortion from having felt wounded by life and distrusting everything about it.
I NEEDED to know what I know now even when I was young, like maybe 11 years old. I’d have understood it back then. Instead, there was this huge derail of thousands upon thousands of meaningless actual hell realms.
God doesn’t exist.
If God does exist, and God knew of the pleasurable exclusive access problem, God would have taught not only me as a child, but everyone.
You’re not a hyperempath. You don’t understand things like this… and it’s not a switch you can just turn off once you’ve reached the point of no return.
I know the power of existence. I know this is wrong.
I take no delight in having an exclusive friend and I take no delight in not having a friend.
Only sociopaths do that. Take delight in the ultimate temptation … the ultimate lie. That they deserve more than someone else, that it’s meaningful, perfect and purposeful.