Now look. I do not always remember things being this difficult. I once had a sex life and it was quite prodigious. I had girl friends, mistresses, prostitutes and strangers all engaging me in my various fantasies. When I look back on my twenties I am reminded of a passionate commitment to indulge myself as much as possible through the sexual act. I was a young man obsessed with ovaries, estrogen, clitoral crura, vagina, uterus, glans clitoris, labia, vulva, pereneal urethra, hips, rounded jaw, buttocks, thighs, boobies- basically all things female.
But as I have moved into my thirties, something has shifted. It is almost like when you ferment a pickle, its entire biological and physiological structure shifts. It trans mutates into something chemically different than it was before. This is what has happened as I have grown older.
The more I feel as if I have gained control over my sexual whims the less I seem to comprehend the core of my sexuality. This core is beginning to fill with rust and starting to control its subject without asking me first. I feel like a victim of my own repressed sexual drives which are starting to manifest in peculiar ways.
I started sleep walking shortly before I was married. I was found across the street by my neighbors who said that I was ringing their doorbell yelling out for “hot footsies.” I do not know exactly what this means but my psychoanalyst told me it could be related to a repressed fetish that I have for feet. I disagreed with her but then I remembered a time when I was in college and I had a fellow student stick her large toe up my anus. We were drunk and had done everything else “sexual” together. This idea came into my head only because she had a particularly long big toe. It was long enough that she was able to write my name on my chest in fine cursive with a pen and her left foot.
After I was found yelling “hot footsies,” on my neighbors porch- my neighbor and I began avoiding one another. It seemed as if they became afraid of the “strange man across the street.” Then another episode occurred. About a year ago I was pulled over by a police officer at 4 a.m. while sleep driving in the nude. I was violently awoken by the sound of the sirens and the flashing lights. Shock, would be the only word that I could think of that could describe my reaction to finding myself driving my wife’s car in the nude. I immediately stepped on the brakes which caused the police officer to rear end me. I was frantic and tried to explain to him that “I had no idea what I was doing, I have a sleep disorder!!” The officer looked at me as I stood in the early morning suburban street in the nude pleading with him to take me home. The officer was bereft at how to respond to this so he parked my car on the side of the street and drove me back home. The following morning my wife received a phone call from the police department recommending that I receive psychiatric attention and that she hold on to my car keys.
My psychoanalyst was certain that these episodes of what she called noctambulism had something to do with my sex drive which she felt was being locked up behind bars. I needed to find ways to set it free with my wife, or at least with my wife’s permission. So I asked my wife how she would feel if I received a hand-job from a prostitute, got a lap dance at a strip club or had a little tiny affair and the conversation was one of the shortest we had ever had. “If you do sexual things with other women, why can’t you do them with me?” What was I to say to this? I had no answer.
The episodes seem to halt for the past few months. My wife had found me taking a shower dressed in a t-shirt with a picture of Sigmund Freud on the front (this was the t-shirt I felt most comfortable sleeping in). Other than this and a few minor episodes, no great sleep walking ordeals had occurred until last night.
I woke up when I landed on the floor, beside the bed. I noticed that I was again naked (which was strange because I went to be with my Sigmund Freud t-shirt and sweat pants on). My wife was standing above me in her black night gown yelling with a gasping and bitter tone in her voice “what are you thinking, what is it you are thinking!!!” I did not know how to respond because I did not know how I ended up naked on the floor. I looked at the clock which said 3:13 a.m. I recalled glimpses of a dream where a strange middle aged women was showing me her finely trimmed pubic hair and asking me over and over “do you like it?” I was puzzled. Dreams and my wife’s pleas where spinning around in my brain. When I asked her what happened she yelled back in tears, “you were humping me in your sleep!!”
Today my wife and I went to a Somnambular sleep clinic where they treat various sleep disorders. My wife told the Doctor and I that she was awoken by me thrusting my penis in between her thighs. She sleeps on her stomach so I was lying on back of her, humping her in between her thighs. “It was like being molested by a dog,” she told the Doctor. I sat there holding her hand and silently felt the consequences of being a man without a sex life. We left the clinic an hour later with prescription medication and the recommendation that I masturbate every evening before going to sleep.