- I'm a sex and love addict. I didn't intend to, but I fell for my prison pen pal.
- When I found out he was a sex offender, I ended our brief relationship.
In May 2019, I joined a prison-pen-pal site where you could meet LGBTQ+ inmates. Through the site, I met a man whom I'll call N.
I'm a recovering sex and love addict. By 2019, I'd been in and out of Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous for years. I was nine months sober and just looking for a friend. I convinced myself I was trying to sprinkle some sunshine into the life of someone the world had discarded. I told myself it would be platonic. Plus, he was bisexual like me, so I thought maybe we'd relate on a special level — platonically.
But N. and I developed an intimate relationship, and I fell for him. It wasn't the happy ending I expected.
I convinced myself writing to N. would be fine as long as I kept it platonic
We started by writing about our daily struggles. He was in a wheelchair and missed pepperoni pizza. I was dealing with dating drama and work stress. I told him pizza was in his future. He said anyone would be lucky to date me.
At first, I looked forward to his letters, but they didn't mean much to me. But soon, I started coming home from work and dashing to my mailbox. If there was no letter from N., I sighed like a kid who hadn't heard back from Santa.
When there was a letter, I'd tear it open and feel that flutter in my belly. I convinced myself the flutter was harmless; he was behind bars after all.
But after 5 months of writing, he suggested I come visit him
When he invited me to visit him in prison, it took very little to convince me. In no time, I was winging my eyeliner and stuffing my boobs into a cute dress.
At the prison, we talked through security glass, but I couldn't stop staring at his sexy, gray-speckled hair and almond eyes. My stomach was full of butterflies on speed. But I tried to convince myself I was just nervous. I was inside a prison, after all.
We talked; we joked; we giggled. Friends giggle — right?
But as we talked, I realized I had no idea what he was in for. It never occurred to me to ask.
So I asked him. He said he was behind the glass because he downloaded things he "shouldn't have." Well, that wasn't necessarily something creepy. Maybe it was something financial. Maybe he was busted while hacking the government.
After seeing him in person, I spent the next week imagining the two of us together.
A week later, N. was released on parole and immediately sent me a text message filled with heart emojis
As the reality of us truly being together started to set in, it really nagged me that I didn't know exactly what he'd done to get arrested. When he was released from prison, we were still only texting, so I texted him, asking for more information about his arrest. I said, "Be specific."
He said he'd bought video porn of a girl. I was shocked and confused. I finally decided to Google him, and I learned he was a sex offender.
"Oh, Jesus," I said to myself. "What have I done?"
I texted him for one more day, but I ultimately broke it off with N. after five months of talking. I didn't want to be the one to offer him redemption.
But most importantly, I realized I don't need to repeat old patterns
I know it sounds like I've made light of this near fiasco. But I often use humor to keep from crying. In truth, I actually have creeped-out daydreams about what might have happened if I hadn't gotten out of that relationship.
But I did get my act together, and I didn't need things to turn dark before I did it. I pulled the plug. I'm the one who closed the door. When I have those freaked-out daydreams, I remind myself that I do have the strength to change the things I can.