I’m hearing quite a bit about sex addiction lately. Now, I have to stop right here and give a quick disclaimer. I grew up in a house full of drunks, drug addicts and generally insane people. I don’t subscribe to that whole “addiction is a crippling illness” bullshit (I’ll get to that in a bit). I bring this up because I look at the people who are supposed sex addicts and just roll my eyes.
Sex addiction, according to Psychcentral.com, is “a progressive intimacy disorder characterized by compulsive sexual thoughts and acts.” “The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Psychiatric Disorders, Volume Four describes sex addiction, under the category ‘Sexual Disorders Not Otherwise Specified,’ as ‘distress about a pattern of repeated sexual relationships involving a succession of lovers who are experienced by the individual only as things to be used.’ According to the manual, sex addiction also involves ‘compulsive searching for multiple partners, compulsive fixation on an unattainable partner, compulsive masturbation, compulsive love relationships and compulsive sexuality in a relationship.’”
At least they have enough taste to not insist it’s a kind of disease. Let me tell you something I know about disease from the viewpoint of a biochemist. Cancer, leukemia, rheumatoid arthritis, etc., are all diseases. You can take some mitigating steps in your life (good diet, exercise, not smoking) to try to avoid them. However, sometimes, despite all your better efforts, Mother Nature decides that you will get a disease. There is nothing you can do about it. She/Fate/God/What Have You makes the decision and you get the disease. There’s not a thing in the world you can do about it.
There is a whole WORLD of difference between getting a disease and acting like a goddamn whore. And that’s all you are if you’re a sex addict. Male or female (especially if you’re male, I’m sick of that term only being applied to women), if you fuck anything that moves, you’re a goddamn whore.
Sex addiction seems to be limited to the realms of the rich, famous and affluent. Let’s face it; only those types can work the stroll all day and not have to worry about being back before their lunch break is up. The rest of us just get to listen to these dicktards whine all day about how hard they have it and how they’re truly sorry and how they have to get back to country club rehab.
What they really need to do is just shut the fuck up. Seriously. You’re a goddamn whore, so stop making excuses for your ho shit because nobody’s buying it, least of all me. Now, put your dicks back in your pants, stop your fucking whining and pull your shit together. Nobody feels sorry for you.
Oh, and stay the hell off my furniture.
After all your ho shit, there’s no saying what kind of dick gangrene, crotch critters or jungle rot you have going on down there. I really don’t want to know. I will tell you one thing, you better stay the hell off my furniture because I’m really not in the mood to burn the sofa. If I do, I’ll make sure you’re still on it at the time. There’s nothing like the purifying power of fire, I always say.
Now get back to work.
Not that work, you stupid douchebag.