First of all this is long, and bitter and full of triggers and general unpleasantness so please be forewarned.
I'm sorry that I got so overtriggered by one reply last night that I didn't give due respect to the other supportive replies. I do get that there are some here who do understand somewhat where I was coming from.
I'm focused now enough to know that behind my getting upset was my rage at the confusing unfairness of the whole story:
First I was taught that sex is icky and bad, then I was introduced to it by force and then, as I thought at the time, was exposed as someone who secretly liked it, and not just sex but homosexual sex which was the worst (supposedly).
Then I grow up and learn that that was a load of hooie, and that most people like sex and many of them like homosexual sex and that to fit in I must like it too. (sex, I mean--sex in general)
Well, fortunately I did like both straight and gay sex, but my shame about that fact was part of me by then and it still is and probably always will be.
But another aspect is the way sex, straight and gay has become so narrowly defined as to what constitutes normal healthy sex that a person seems to be a freak if they do not behave just so during the process, smiling and making eye contact, and saying happy loving things to each other the whole time.
Personally, I feel that, where this may be fine and natural for some, there should be no set standards like this as what everyone must conform to in order to be considered normal and healthy sexually.
I don't know what it's like for women, but for me as a bottom, sex is very uncomfortable, and if it wasn't, it wouldn't be fun, and it wouldn't be sex.
But this is that big taboo secret about life that so many people are in denial of: ambiguity. How can being uncomfortable be fun? Well, maybe it isn't "fun". or "pleasurable". Maybe these words are just words we try to make fit like square pegs in (no pun intended)(seriously, no pun intended) round holes.
It's just possible that humans actually have the capacity to ENJOY PAIN! Since it seems fairly obvious to me that life is at least fifty percent pain, I find it strange that this ability is so widely considered an unhealthy affliction.
Be that as it may, I feel we who use the English language are crippled by a lack of vocabulary regarding our feelings. We have the word love, but there are many different kinds of love and we are supposed to always be able to just guess which kind of love it is when someone says "I love you".
Now that fact is obvious, but something no one dares talk about is that there are different kinds of enjoyment as well. Enjoying good food, or the company of a loved one is one kind of enjoyment. Watching a tragedy movie or a watching out the window on a dark stormy night is another kind of enjoyment. A feeling of uncomfortable pressure and friction in a place you're not used feeling such things is another kind of enjoyment.
We should have different words for these different kinds of love and different kinds of pleasure, but we just have "love" and "pleasure". Does this keep things simple? I don't think so.
It's like organizing your shelves by putting everything in containers that all look alike and nothing to tell them apart. THAT sure makes everything easy to find!
So am I confused? YEAH!I'm confused! and who isn't! This is why people can't wrap their mind around enjoying pain---it seems like a contradiction of terms BECAUSE IT IS!
You can't "enjoy pain" it isn't enjoyment, when you "enjoy pain", it's something else you are feeling that there are no words for save "masochism" but that is a "perversion" and only THOSE people, we are to believe, can "enjoy pain".
I can't speak for everyone, but in all the different categories of feelings that fall under the word "enjoyment" only some of them make me feel like smiling. Sex is not one of them for me.
Maybe afterward I might give a "whew, that was great!" smile, but during sex, especially if I'm being bottom, I don't feel like smiling! Does that mean I hate it? No!
The problem is we're bound up in this language oversimplified reality that doesn't allow us to just let things be what they are! We have to categorize everything into an inadequate language, and then pretend it all makes sense because if you think it doesn't your a freak!
So I grow up learning about how sex, though somehow acceptable in a very strict set of conditions, is generally something shameful to be avoided, then I have it foisted on me and am told I like it which makes me a freak, and then I grow up and in order to not be a freak I must now eagerly jump into bed with people and have sex with a big happy grin on my face the whole time saying "oh, yes, oh yes, isn't this lovely! I love it so much!".
So to even come close to accomplishing this unnatural adaptation to changing arbitrary rules, I employ the use of my imagination to pretend I'm being raped--not like it was after I was informed that I was a fag who would probably go to hell, but minutes before that when I was able to indulge in the whole victim role that I was still allowed to take. At that time I was not responsible, or complicit in any way so I could cry and "enjoy" (for lack of better word) crying and "enjoy" the amazing new feelings brought to me on the wings of pain and discomfort.
And I will admit it,(at this point there's nothing else I haven't admitted here at ms,) it was awsome! until he spotted my boner and told me what that "means".
Then it was a hundred foot drop straight to nausia and wanting to crawl into a peanut shell in the bottom of a dumpster and die.
I guess if I had been raped by a woman and "liked it", I would have had "bragging rights". But I was raped by a boy and "liked it" and that meant I was a filthy disgusting pervert hated in the sight of god and doomed to hell.
So the smiling and ohing and ahing during sex is WAY too triggering to try to do and to have sex at all, I have to pretend I'm being forced to do it. Or if I am topping I pretend one or both of us is being forced.
That way, in my head, at least, I'm not guilty of any perversion and I can think of myself as more of a martyr than a pervert. And it makes sense that having been an 11 or 12 yo boy getting raped, I WAS a martyr and if I want to continue to feel like one I should have a right to to some extent.
But no, my attempt to have normal sex by using a ficticious rape scenario in my head makes me, ..guess what!...A PERVERT! How didn't I see that comming! That seems to be my destiny; first to be a pervert for liking homosexual sex, then to be a pervert for not appearing to like sex the way I'm supposed to, and then to be a pervert for trying to like sex the way I'm supposed to.
Any way I go I'm a pervert. Fortunately I haven't hurt anyone (that didn't ask me to), and haven't been locked up yet. At least not for being a pervert.
I'm TIRED of being a "pervert"! I'm NOT a pervert! The assholes who raped me were/are perverts and if I have trouble adjusting to the contrived table manners ritual that people have come to think of as "healthy" sex, and have to do some more mind twisting to appear normal, then ok, I'm different just like we all are.
I know this is another long rant..sorry but I hope it sheds some light on why it irritates me so much to have my interest in bdsm and my need to "fantasize" about rape (though I still insist that is NOT what I'm doing- but can not possibly explain better than I have already,) become part of a category of negative behaviors like IV coke.
Ok I'm done now. Am I in china yet, or do I need to keep digging this hole?