This is my journal entry from August 11, 2025, part of my daily autobiography Author in St. Petersburg — my real, unedited days, published in order.
Tonight I’m writing my diary later than usual, at 11:21 p.m., just after returning from a visit to my mom’s house. I didn’t bother plugging in my microphone; since this isn’t going into the audiobook, I’m dictating freely through my AirPods, which feels casual and easy.
Today was the kids’ first day of school. My daughter started fifth grade, and my son entered second. My ex-wife and I drove them together both ways. The school is about seventeen minutes away if the traffic flows smoothly, but once you factor in the pick-up and drop-off process, each round trip runs forty minutes to an hour. In a way, it felt like having three separate dates with my ex-wife—the morning ride together, the yoga class we attended afterward, and the afternoon pick-up. I’m deeply happy with their school. My daughter has thrived there for five years, and my son’s first couple of years have been smooth. Both have friends in their classes and like their teachers. They’re even excited about the new art teacher this year, which is wonderful.
Middle school is still a year away, and I know the logistics will get trickier with two separate drop-off and pick-up times. I’ve decided not to waste mental energy worrying about something I don’t need to decide yet, especially when I don’t have all the facts. I appreciate how I now keep my focus on what’s in front of me rather than spinning into future concerns. Physically, I’ve had a little less energy today. When my mind started spinning stories about whether I might be getting sick or if I’d feel worse later, I refused to engage. Instead, I thanked my body for the energy it does have and reminded it that today is a perfect day to rest. I had a massage scheduled for the afternoon—my second in just a few days—which is unusual but welcome. For the next couple of weeks, I’ve booked massages every five or six days, and that feels like a real luxury.
Today’s massage was with my massage therapist after the kids came home from school. We had a long, open conversation that touched on my views about intimacy. I value being in an environment where my desires can be discussed openly—seen as reasonable and human, not pathologized as addiction or framed as a flaw.
I’m grateful I can discuss my sex life with women as well as men. Sometimes, hearing the female perspective feels like hearing from the “other side,” and it can be more understanding. Too often, male friends have brushed off my feelings, saying things like, “Your wife’s beautiful, you should be happy with whatever you get—you get more than I do.” That kind of comparison has never resonated with me. I’ve also heard the insinuations about sex addiction, as if wanting daily intimacy were excessive. In my experience, once a day feels perfect. I’ve never wanted multiple times a day, but every other day hasn’t felt like enough either. For me, it’s not about addiction — it’s a joyful, bonding ritual. In a happy, committed relationship, what I want is real connection rather than a substitute for it.
My massage therapist also asked me about semen retention, a topic on which I hold strong personal opinions. For me, it simply isn’t a good fit—a long stretch without release once left me physically and mentally miserable. It revealed how important this part of life is to me.
For the first time in my life, I feel completely at peace with my sexual desires, seeing them as God-given—meant for joy, connection, and love. I feel worthy of having them fulfilled in ways that align with my nature, within a committed relationship.
Sexual issues like this are often the very ones people bury under addictions rather than confront directly. It’s striking how many stories in Alcoholics Anonymous — and in memoirs like Liz Murray’s, which I listened to more of tonight while walking the dog — weave back to sexual trauma, suppressed desires, or shame about sexuality. When we’re taught to believe our sexual desires are wrong, it opens the door to destructive coping mechanisms.
In my experience, semen retention has never felt right for me. Going without ejaculation feels just as uncomfortable as constipation does for my body. For me, sex is a natural, necessary process, and daily release feels healthy. Just as I wouldn’t choose to be constipated, I don’t want to be “sexually constipated.” The retention practices I’ve heard about often seem tied to cult-like environments that exploit people’s pent-up or misdirected sexual energy.
When sexual desires are met in a wholesome, mutually respectful way, people tend to be more grounded, balanced, and resistant to manipulation. On the other hand, when those desires are met in ways that carry shame — the kind of behavior you wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing openly — the problems multiply. I want to lead by example and make it more normal to talk about sex openly, because I believe many addictions ultimately trace back to unresolved sexual issues. My own step work in AA, along with hearing countless inventories from others, has reinforced this belief.
A person having consistent, happy, healthy sex is far less likely to be manipulated, exploited, or driven into destructive behaviors. Think of all the young people with frustrated sexual energy — they can be persuaded to do extreme things, even join militaries and kill people they’ve never met. For me, regular intimacy is relaxing and therapeutic. It’s been a much healthier outlet than alcohol or drugs ever were in my life. Personally, I haven’t experienced downsides from it. Some might argue there’s a risk of pregnancy, but to me, that’s not a problem at all — it’s something to be joyful about.
I’m grateful that I feel comfortable talking about sex today, because in the past I often turned to addictions instead of facing those conversations. A year ago, for example, I was playing Marvel Snap, a customizable card game on mobile and desktop, with an obsessive intensity. I spent over $2,000 on in-game cards. At one point, I realized that as long as I was absorbed in Marvel Snap, I didn’t have to confront my dissatisfaction or the deeper questions I was avoiding. That was the logic I heard in my head: most men would be happy with that, and my ex-wife was already giving more than she wanted to. Why wasn’t it enough for me?
I eventually saw the truth — quitting Marvel Snap and video games altogether would leave me face-to-face with my dissatisfaction. I felt embarrassed admitting to people how much I had spent on that game, and after multiple failed attempts to quit, I finally deleted my third YouTube gaming channel where my Marvel Snap videos were getting the majority of the views. Almost immediately, the feelings I’d been avoiding came flooding in. Within a month, I had a weekend full of crying, asking for help, and talking openly about what I wanted in my marriage. I reached a point where I told my ex-wife I could no longer pretend everything was fine, and that I wanted us to work on it together.
We’re committed to a monogamous relationship, which is what I want, and I’d rather work on our connection honestly than pretend. We had a similar conversation just a few months ago. One of the best things about clearing my life of online distractions and sensational nonsense is that I can see the real issues clearly and address them directly. I’m also able to show up with more compassion and attention for my ex-wife, doing my part to help her give me what I want.
I’ve sought advice from people like my life coach and my massage therapist, asking what I can do to make my ex-wife feel more turned on. One thing that’s become clear is how much my communication and compassion matter. Small differences in how I speak and think can be the difference between my ex-wife feeling understood, happy, and connected — or feeling pushed away. Talking about these things excites me because I can see myself growing in these areas.
My massage therapist made a thoughtful observation: that my desire for intimacy mirrors my creativity. She pointed out that I express myself daily through writing, and before that through making videos, and that I seem to want my intimate life to reflect that same creative flow. Hearing that affirmed felt validating.
Not long after that, I brought it up again, hoping for a calm conversation. Instead it became a big argument—one of those moments that made clear just how far apart we were on this issue.
After that argument, the pattern was always the same: we would slip back into the old routine, and I would apologize for “asking too much,” telling myself I’d take whatever was offered. The problem with that compromise was twofold — she felt like she wasn’t enough, and I felt quietly unsatisfied. That’s a bad environment for both of us. While I’ve been faithful, I’ve had crushes and moments where I questioned the marriage.
Now, though, I feel we’ve reached a new high point in our marriage, and I love it. The difference from last year is striking. Back then, I pushed with more force, even issued an ultimatum, and while she eventually agreed, she carried resentment, and the whole thing had a negative energy. This year, the dynamic feels completely different. I’m grateful, and we’re both working on ourselves.
I believe the main problem in most people’s sex lives could be resolved through open conversation. If there’s anything in your sex life you wouldn’t want to tell the world about, the answer is to address it directly. That doesn’t mean oversharing — my kids are still young, and I’m not going into these details with them yet — but when they’re older, I’d be happy to talk openly about these parts of life with anyone who’s genuinely interested. I want a world where we can speak comfortably about sex, money, and health issues. Keeping those topics “sensitive” creates opportunities for control and exploitation. When we normalize honest discussion, we make it harder for that to happen.
Tonight, while washing dishes, I talked to my son about earning money. We pay the kids $20 an hour for work around the house, and if they’ve earned bonuses, we double it. I told him he could pick up dog poop for about twelve minutes and make eight dollars. He replied that it “wasn’t fun.” I explained that I don’t think about whether doing the dishes is fun or not — they need to be done, so I do them. As a kid, I wanted everything to be fun all the time, but life requires balance. There’s plenty of room for joy, play, and excitement, yet some tasks are simply about creating satisfaction, not fun.
My ex-wife sometimes says she thinks about intimacy and then doesn’t feel like it, and I point out that this is part of the same pattern. If I thought about whether I wanted to do the dishes, I wouldn’t want to either. There’s always something more “fun” I could do. Still, I spend thirty minutes to an hour handwashing our dishes every day because our dishwasher’s heating element is broken. Replacing it would cost hundreds of dollars, and handwashing gets them cleaner anyway — especially since we have plastic items that shouldn’t go in the dishwasher. I wash them, let them dry in the dishwasher rack, and enjoy the result: a spotless sink.
My daughter was excited to wash dishes once but got bored quickly. I told my son, “Fun is valuable, but satisfying is valuable too. Going to bed with a clean sink is satisfying.” Today was exactly that kind of day — satisfying. I enjoyed my conversations, I enjoyed living it, and even without adrenaline-pumping excitement, I felt good moving through it. Now, at 11:44 p.m., I’m wrapping up this diary feeling satisfied with what I’ve shared.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.