By the time we got married I had already slept with more than 300 other women behind Julia’s back
It was often quite rough and I became very demanding, as standard sex or positions didn’t satisfy me. Increasingly she became less inclined to say yes.
I had great respect for her and didn’t push it if she wasn’t willing. Instead, I consumed vast amounts of porn while she slept.
Then there was my collection of sex toys, including expensive sex dolls. When that got boring, I’d arrange online to have sex with other women. Travelling regularly at home and abroad on business made it easy. I didn’t need a plush hotel room — my car or any old public toilet would do.
After we’d been married for around two years, Julia confronted me about my obsession with porn and rough sex, but I brushed it off, telling her all my friends did the same. No wonder her self-esteem was in bits. She didn’t bring it up again.
Instead, she did what so many people married to someone with an addiction do: she pushed aside her own feelings, fearing it would break up our marriage if she complained or probed too much. Shame consumed me almost as much as sex. I struggled to look Julia in the eyes and sometimes attempted to assuage my guilt with huge romantic gestures such as flowers and meals.
Other times I drank and took drugs to numb my guilt.
But as soon as I watched another porn movie or got another conquest into bed, those feelings would vanish.
We’d been married for three years when Julia discovered I’d had sex with a friend of a friend. I’d been sloppy and word had got back to her. She was hurt and furious, but we decided to have couples therapy to see if we could salvage the marriage.
You know the rest and when Julia filed for divorce, I hit the self-destruct button, sleeping with more than ten women a week. By now it was becoming clearer to me that I needed help.
This was highlighted when I met my current girlfriend Natasha, a now 35-year-old data analyst, in a bar in 2021 and really liked her.
Although we had sex that evening I spent the entire night with her — unusual for me — and when we woke the next morning, I cooked brunch for us.
As we ate, I decided to tell her everything because I wanted to see her again, not just discard her like all the others. Prostitutes, hardcore porn, infidelity — she heard the lot.
Her reaction completely shocked me. Her mother had been an alcoholic, so she has a deep understanding of addiction and was able to separate the real, loving, caring me from the man with an unhealthy need for sex.
Because of this, she said she was willing to give me a chance but with some strict rules: no more sex with other women, she would only have sex with me when it was an act of love and not to fulfil an addictive need, and she insisted that I had to go to therapy.
After copious research, several months later I saw a specialist doctor who diagnosed me with compulsive sexual behaviour, saying I was a textbook example. The relief was like a rock leaving my chest. For the first time I realised that I wasn’t an awful human being. I was ill with an addiction I couldn’t control.
Since then, I’ve spent over €10,000 with a wonderful sex therapist called Sofie Roos.
With Sofie’s professional guidance these past few years it’s become a full-time job to manage my desire. The most valuable thing she’s taught me is that I’m not a bad person — I’m suffering from an addiction that makes me do terrible things. Mentally, I can now separate the two.
Sofie has helped me realise that my addiction is not actually about sex, but about wanting to feel accepted and gaining attention.
Part of my treatment has been contacting some of the women I’ve bedded to apologise for how I treated them.
Obviously, many were strangers so I wouldn’t know how to get in touch with them, but most of those whom I did contact were thankful, relieved to know why I treated them so badly.
Sofie has taught me that it’s never too late to do something about sex addiction, but that I’ll also never be free from it. Rather like an alcoholic who can be sober, there will be many moments when I feel weak.
She’s also taught me a lot about self-control, discipline and how important routines are to keep the sexual desire in place, skills I use every day.
Natasha and I have now been together for two and a half years. We have sex almost every day, sometimes two or three times, but equally there are days we don’t have sex at all.
We place great emphasis on being tactile — holding hands, cuddling, placing a reassuring hand on the other’s back, that sort of thing.
Another lesson from Sofie has been learning to get physical attention in ways other than sex.
In a year or two, another part of my treatment will be telling my loved ones about my addiction. My older brother already knows and says he wasn’t surprised. It will be a different matter when I reach the point of telling my mum — I’ve no idea how that will go.
I’d say my addiction is under control at the moment but it’s a work in progress. Once an addict, always an addict.
I’ve learned that parties and nightclubs are triggers so I avoid them now. Likewise, if Natasha is away for too long visiting family or on a work trip, old thoughts creep back in, so we carefully manage any time apart to keep it to a minimum. The biggest trigger would be if she ever leaves me and I end up alone. I know I could easily return to my sick path of sexual behaviour.
One day, I would love to be settled with a family of my own but at the same time, my greatest fear is cheating on the mother of my children and then not being in their lives. I fear this may prevent me from ever becoming a father.
For now, I’m incredibly grateful to have a loving girlfriend and a wonderful therapist who continue to stand by me through my addiction, but at the same time I’m deeply sorry for all the hundreds of women I’ve used along the way, not least my ex-wife.
I became demanding as standard sex didn’t satisfy