No leaf clover, sad but true

Sex is a powerful thing. I remember as a kid meeting my first best friend for a first time in first grade (that's a lot of firsts) and immediately feeling attracted. Sexually. Since then, sex played a big part in my thoughts and actions. It was a driving force, the strength of which was only matched by my love for video games.

But I digress.

I've been quite involved and at times sexually intimate with many people since that first day in first grade. I've done everything except actual intercourse, so I'm still (technically) a virgin. That kind of gives me pause though-- thus I use the term virgin loosely. In each situation, what drove me was sex. Lust. The desire to satisfy my urges. Urges that I didn't understand until long after I'd started down this path, leaving a trail of brokenness behind me and within me. And why should this be? I've prayed so often for God to heal these people I've affected and hurt in ways I cannot imagine. I prayed for Him to save these people from me. To save me from myself.

When you're in the moment, your libido kicks in. Your mind gets cloudy, and all you can see and feel is the animal instinct. Everything becomes raw and carnal and unrelenting almost undeniable. Giving in to sex is like standing at the entrance of a long dark tunnel. Once you enter you just keep running, and as you go deeper it gets darker, and all you want is to burst out the other side. To reach the endpoint.

And when you do come out the other side, you realize that all that's there is darkness. And guilt. And pain. And shame.

And you'd think with all you go through, it'd be easier (and prudent) to avoid the next tunnel. But when you come to it, it almost calls to you. You're curious, you're intrigued, you're weak. Then the sexual dark inside you takes hold and drags you toward the entrance. You resist, but try as you might, sometimes it's too strong.

And maybe, just maybe, a part of you isn't fighting as hard as you should. The part that wants it. The part that wants to embrace the darkness of the tunnel again. The part that locks the door at night so no one will see. The part that whispers in your ear and tells you it's fine and speaks sweet little excuses and justifications to you. And when you turn to look at the small dark voice, the demon on your shoulder, the devil's advocate, all you see...

...is yourself.