I had this moment a few weeks back.

I’m in a restaurant with 3 of my older male colleagues and leaders.  We just finished up a day full of meetings and are sitting down for a quick bite at a restaurant.  As we were sitting there eating, a girl walks by us.  She’s a smaller girl in stature, guessing early to mid 20’s in age, darker skin, and clearly dressed comfortably for the travel day I assume is ahead of her.  She was wearing grey yoga pants, black “tennies,” and an undersized white t-shirt, however, her shirt is short, revealing her perfectly toned mid-drift.  She chose to not wear a bra that day, as this was evident as she walks past us… very, ahem, “perky” we shall say.  I am not bothered that this girl was wearing what she was – that is her choice, 100%.  But I will admit, I could feel the sexual energy pouring strong from this one.  Flitting back and forth as she trotted by us, raising her hands to her hair to pull it back, giving us a full access view to her almost visible nipples through her shirt.  And she was beautiful by societal standards.  Taking her seat next to a very handsome man, she resumed the playful flirtation among them.  And yet… whoa… I am blindsided instantly in this moment.  My heart drops to the floor as if I just was publicly exposed in the airport… my blood is pumping. Adrenaline.  I’m terrified, humiliated, embarrassed, and frozen.

What happened?  What is happening? What the fuck is happening?

I look down at my salad.  I can’t see straight.  Images computing to my eyes in high-def; a digital effect to my vision with electric highlights of every color surrounding every shape and object (like one of those Instagram photo filters). My eyes frantically dart across the table to every male pair of eyes among which I sat.  And I completely realize, “I’m sitting with with 3 older men.”  The unimaginable awareness of their gender, and my own contrasting gender, is full blown.  Help me. 

Shame, embarrassment, fear washed over me.  I felt small, controlled – just as if I was being sexualized.  I watch my male colleagues eyes as she pranced past us – are they looking?  Are they sexualizing her?  Did they see? Did they just sexualize her? Do they sexualize me?  Have they looked at me inappropriately? Do they look at me inappropriately???  I couldn’t hear.  Help Me. One of the men was talking directly to me, but like a dream, his lips were moving and I can’t hear nor comprehend a word.  I am overcome with embarrassment, fully aware of my womanhood – aware of my female body parts, fearfully present with that underlying primal reality to which women live in our day and age (and many, if not all ages, prior).  This reality, where men (and yes, some women, too) drink with their eyes what is not theirs.  Where men consume women’s bodies in their heads and minds without an invitation or consent… I want to hide.  I want safety.  My whole being is screaming for safety… I look down, attempt to take a breath. I begin mentally talking to myself… “It’s ok.  You’re ok. You’re ok.”  Breath starts entering my lungs again.  I start to feel a slow steady release of my emotions floating down.  I am ok.  I’m ok.

I am overcome with embarrassment, fully aware of my womanhood – aware of my female body parts, fearfully present with that underlying primal reality to which women live in our day and age.  This reality, where men drink with their eyes what is not theirs.

I am happy to report, the 3 older men I was sitting with did not even slightly acknowledge her – not even a glance that I could tell.  I calmed after another minute.  I settled into my chair.  That, folks… is a small traumatic trigger.

Earlier that very week, my beloved boyfriend admitted to objectifying women…again.  Ah, you say, all men do this.  Struggling with living by his own proclaimed values, coupled with a lapse in his self-awareness and emotional stability, he admitted to soothing himself by indulging in using women by sexualizing their bodies for his pleasure.  I know that many of you might think this is such a small thing, but in a post I have yet to write, I have been down a year-long journey with this man while he recovers from an addiction to pornography.  (He has had over a year clean in his journey, to which I couldn’t be more proud and more comforted from the dedication and work he has put into his recovery.  It has been truly beautiful. Transformative, even).  However, it still bites him and he still falls prey to the very temptation that he allowed to control his emotional state for many, many years of his life.  So, it is a reminder of what lives out there.  Of course, it is more common than most men and women realize, or would like to admit. With studies everywhere disclosing erectile dysfunction in younger and younger men, directly correlated to their use of porn.  And I am not an anti-porn advocate.  Hell, I have watched some here and there (Albeit, there is a massive case for the abuse of women and the responsibility of the porn industry to ensure more protections of women in this industry as well as the user to be socially responsible to choose more female empowered and sex-positive pornography selections).  But I digress – that’s a rant for another day…  So, yes, the struggles of my boyfriend, the recovering porn addict.  Of course, he’s so much more than that.  This is one facet of his life that for the most part, he is learning daily to put behind him.

So, traumatic trigger, boyfriend confession… I suppose all of this needs a shit ton more context.  Of course, I plan to walk through this with you.  Very deeply – probably more than you’d like.  What sex addiction is, and can be, but more importantly, what effects it can have on your partner,  since, well, that is where I live… When my boyfriend drops the ball on taking inventory of his emotional state or his own thoughts running rampant in his mind… It’s inevitable that I suffer.  And I think that’s pretty true for most relationships, most scenarios, most secrets, most darkness… When we let the darkness reign, we not only hurt ourselves, but our loved ones hurt either directly (because it cuts them deep and effects their psyche), or indirectly (because we rob them of the truest, richest version of ourselves).  When we let the darkness reign, we cower.  We hide.  And then it cuts us off from being able to form the very thing we absolutely need to survive emotionally – connection.

Don’t create false connection.  It hurts. It sucks.  I want nothing of it.

Be real. You’ll live deeper, feel more, and have deeper connections.  And you’ll love better.  Let’s love better.