"During sex, I disconnected from my body, as if I were watching myself in a movie," Karel recalls of the years when he was "addicted" to infidelity
Karl, in a previous interview we discussed how you found a partner at the age of twenty-two and told your parents you were gay. You liked girls, too, but whenever you got intimate with them as a teenager, you felt disconnected from your own body, and sometimes faked your pleasure. That's why you figured you'd probably be "into boys." Today, you don't see your orientation as so distinct. So how did your queer identity evolve?
I would say I found a family in the gay community, a real sense of acceptance, and that encouraged me to let loose. In my first relationships with girls, I guess I resorted a lot to imitating others - I didn't feel what I wanted to feel, but in a "fake it till you make it" kind of way, I just copied what I saw on shows or from friends. My new identity as a gay man kind of forced me to put aside those romantic "role models" and find my own way. I took it to mean that I was starting a new chapter in my life and that I was just discovering my personality because the years before kind of didn't count. I changed my hairstyle and my style of dress, I started going to gay discos, I opened up more to people - and suddenly I felt that others saw me as a sex object, that I wasn't invisible to them. The feeling of being wanted felt so good - and I couldn't stay faithful to my first partner. I picked up guys and girls, often at parties where everyone was drunk. A couple of times I ended up in a sex club or a threesome with a straight couple. Oddly enough, the ladies responded to my "gay vibes" with increased interest. My "looking for myself" was more like this aimless, wall-to-wall, aimless.
How do you look back on this "tumultuous" period?
I think I was proving my self-worth through sex and the love interest of others - that's also why I didn't care much about the gender of my counterpart. I needed others to confirm that I was worth something - I couldn't value myself, even with the support of a partner. Chronically, feelings of emptiness that I didn't understand or couldn't name came back, and the intense sexual experiences helped to overcome them - especially when combined with alcohol. I guess it was some sort of compensation mechanism of mine. Plus, it was easier for me to sleep with people outside of the relationship because my "blackouts" of experiencing were coming back.
Can you describe those "blackouts" any better?
It used to happen that I would have sex with someone and seeing them enjoy it made me feel inferior and "broken" - because my body suddenly wasn't "cooperating". I felt disconnected, absent, like I was floating above myself. Such feelings of emptiness are easier to experience with someone you don't love and to whom you don't have to commit. Sex at that moment gave me nothing, even though I might have initiated it myself - I was basically hypersexual, which I'm told is not that rare for abused people. Often, because of these "blackouts", I preferred one-sided play, where I satisfied my counterpart - and didn't let them touch me too much. I was quite dominant in bed, and it was often a one-time thing, so none of the lovers and mistresses were too surprised.
What impact did these affairs have on your relationship?
My partner half-tolerated the infidelities, because he knew he was my first and that I was unrestrained, but I felt insanely guilty that I was being tormented by desires and emotions that I didn't really know myself. I was trying to maintain a stable relationship, I cared about my partner, but I was immature. Instead of appreciating how much understanding my boyfriend had for me, I had a parallel crush on someone who didn't treat me well at all. I typically chose counterparts twenty years older, preferably married heterosexuals. Kind of the forbidden fruit. Then I'd just wallow in unhappy love and remorse. I'd always craved closeness and commitment, so my behavior seemed paradoxical even to myself. I must have come across as a boy who didn't know what he wanted. The more I realized this, the more ashamed of myself I became - and the more I needed those around me to give me some self-worth. A vicious circle.
How did you explain being mired in such relationship complexities?
At the time, I justified my behaviour by saying that my parents were very short with me, so I had a delayed puberty. Plus I guessed that I was attracted to older men because of my emotionally cold father - that I had some "daddy issues" and was looking for a loving dad in unavailable partners. The connection to my sexually abusive uncle didn't occur to me at all - I had fixed my relationship with him as a warm, friendly one. I idealized him a lot, probably because he died during my adolescence. "I didn't have time to form a more mature opinion of him - and the early experiences of sexual abuse didn't come back to me until I was in my thirties.
You mentioned psychotherapy - at what point in your life did you first seek professional help?
I was led to therapy by total burnout. After breaking up with my partner, I fell into workaholism, not eating properly, not sleeping. Emotionally, I had invested several times in relationships with people who were struggling with some form of addiction themselves - to work, to alcohol, to my financial "subsidies". I had a civilian job during the day, I soundtracked events or partied at night, and I had no regard for the fact that even at 27, the body has limits. I didn't understand the context at the time, but today I know that my uncle basically "taught" me to abuse myself through sexual abuse - at work, in my family, in my relationships. Unconsciously, I began to see myself as a tool for pleasing others - I didn't care if I was overworked, sleepy, cold, or burdened with my own worries. I gave myself away to the people around me, just to keep them happy, to keep them liking me. I didn't care about myself. Until some serious health problem stopped me, I rode like a robot.
That sounds like a very self-destructive model...
I'm sure it is. I often couldn't handle what I put on myself, so I felt incapable, even though I hardly stopped. The guilt made me almost unable to say "no" anymore - and I loaded myself up even more, as if I were punishing myself. Basically, I was a master at making life difficult for myself - but I had no idea why I was getting into these constellations. Why I was always "taking the pitchfork to myself." Despite the fact that I was honestly going to therapy and reading various "self-help" books, it took me forever to "get it" - and I didn't put a lot of the pieces of the puzzle together until I met Jindra, my current love.
In the continuation of the interview - which you can look forward to again on Thursday - you will read about Karel's other life peripeties, why the consequences of his trauma reminded him of attention deficit disorder and how he managed to establish a healthy relationship.
