IntroductionI am an addict -- or, as my father prefers it said, Ihave an addiction. There's no need, he insists, to so thoroughly pigeonhole myself. I think I know what he means. If Ihave an addiction, then maybe one day I can throw it away, or misplace it, or refuse to be seen with it. But if Iam an addict.well, that feels more permanent, more all-defining.I did not consciously choose my particular manifestation of addiction (sex), nor did I make a concerted effort not to become enslaved to cocaine, or crystal meth, or craps, or any of the myriad ways addicts commit suicide "on the installment plan," as educator Laurence Peter once put it. For whatever reasons, my brain believes that sex is the best way to medicate loneliness, disconnection, shame, anger, and a core belief -- only recently challenged -- that I am inherentlyunlovable.
Perhaps my sex addiction was foreshadowed many years ago. When I was twelve, my favorite song was George Michael's "I Want Your Sex." In the shower I could be heard happily belting,Sex is natural, sex is good, not everybody does it, but everybody should!Back then, it would have been inconceivable to me that one could think about sex -- or, better yet, have sex -- too often for one's own good. Sex was definitely not like crack, which I was hearing about with increasing hysteria on the news. Crack seemed very, very bad. Sex seemed like a great idea, especially as it was explained to me in the pages of thePenthousemagazines I found while snooping around my father's bedroom. (My parents divorced when I was six, and I divided my time between their houses.)If you had told me when I was twelve that I would grow up to be a sex addict, I likely would have prayed you were right.
My attitude at the time would have mirrored that of some grown married men whom I've told about my addiction. When I say that sex can "take over my life," I don't get much sympathy.But lucky I am not. Like any debilitating addiction, sex addiction is about as fun as a self-imposed daily practice of water torture. What does sex addiction look like? It can take many forms, but for me a bad day in my active addiction looked something like this:9:45 a.m.: Wake up later than intended (resolve to get up earlier the next day).9:46 a.
m.: Feel shame for having blown off my friends (again) in favor of spending five hours the previous night in a chat room on the Internet, followed by an hour of sex with someone I met there. Resolve to see friends that night.9:47 a.m.: Think about eating breakfast.10:02 a.m.
: Decide that I'll wait until lunch to eat.10:05 a.m.: Blow off checking my work e-mail. Check my other e-mail, to see who responded to one of my online profiles, some more truthful than others.10:38 a.m.: Have phone sex.
10:59 a.m.: Remember that I hate phone sex. Resolve to stop having phone sex.11:03 a.m.: Check my work e-mail -- realize that I missed an appointment.11:05 a.
m.: E-mail said person. Apologize, make excuse.11:08 a.m.: Call a friend and make plans for that night.11:20 a.m.
: Try to work.12:09 p.m.: Give up. Resolve to work harder the next day.12:23 p.m.: Make a sandwich.
Watch TV.1:15 p.m.: Spend five hours online looking for someone attractive to have sex with. Ignore repeated calls from friend with whom I have plans.6:17 p.m.: Call friend.
Lie about why I can't meet.6:19 p.m.: Feel shame.6:20 p.m.: Go back online. Eventually find someone attractive to have sex with.
7:10 p.m.: Take first shower of the day.7:20 p.m.: Drive an hour to meet the person. Wait. Person doesn't show.
8:40 p.m.: Drive home, angry and hungry.9:40 p.m.: Get back online -- look for someone new.10:02 p.m.
: Mom calls (later than usual). Let it go to voice mail.10:05 p.m.: Watch some porn.10:45 p.m.: Have phone sex.
12:45 a.m.: Remember that I hate phone sex. Resolve to stop having phone sex.12:46 a.m.: Fe.