Tag Archives: sex addiction

Oh, Tiger Woods, You FAILED Us… BAD Golfer!

Oh, boo-hoo. Really? Tiger failed you?
It turns out people are whining more about the fact that the mighty golf god Tiger Woods has proven to be all-too-human and just as flawed as most people in the public eye.
I can’t believe the air of entitlement from the public about this. Like Tiger Woods did this to YOU?
What did Tiger sign up to do in life? Be Jesus? No, as a toddler he picked up a golf club and showed a profound affinity to it. He didn’t enroll in Dalai Lama classes or learn how to hang out on a cross for three days and change water to wine.
He played GOLF. He hit a stupid ball with a stick, and he was INCREDIBLE at it. He became the best player to EVER play the sport.
He did THAT to the best of his abilities.
Then, like most profoundly gifted people, he fucked up in other areas of his life.
So what do we have now? We have blowhards like wanker-to-the-nth, Augusta Golf Club’s Chairman Billy Payne, saying ridiculous things like, “Our hero did not live up to the expectations of the role model we saw for our children. It is not simply the degree of his conduct that is so egregious here, it is the fact he disappointed all of us and more importantly our kids and our grand kids.”
Are you kidding me?
Here’s a chance for EVERY PARENT IN THE WORLD to do what they should’ve been doing all along:
Explain to the kids that celebrities are people, and they make humongous mistakes in life, too. Explain how “celebrity” usually means someone’s good at one special thing, and they’re probably better at that one thing than most people ever will be, but that “celebrity” also leads people to think that being GOOD at that ONE thing means that they get a pass on being good at many other things — like living a moral life — and that it’s important to remember how easy it is to let your life get out of balance and lose responsibility for yourself.
Like Tiger did.
Tiger Woods — THE GREATEST PLAYER IN THE WORLD, EVER — has screwed up and been human.
It’s a good time for EVERYONE to remember that if Tiger can be human, we probably all will be, too.
Naturally, Tiger’s brand of “fucking up” goes above and beyond the average person’s ability to do so — but so do the demands of his life, the surreality of HIS fame, and the enormously frequent opportunities to screw up. So, of course the scope of his fallout is legendary, because so is his life. Perspective.
A skill or talent, or even brilliance, does not mean someone is immune from insecurities, emotional baggage, mental illness, stupid judgment, or the ability to be a complete ass.
Let’s start judging skills, talent, progeny, brilliance, and scope for what it is — being good at ONE thing, not EVERYthing — and stop assuming it comes with some moral pedigree.
In our daily lives, we’re all flawed to varying extents, and none of us ever faces the vast temptations and moral compromises those in the public eye do, and yet we’d like to keep our skeletons well hidden behind our closets.
Unlikely any of us has ever had anything close to the sexual escapades and betrayals that Tiger Woods has come to light with, but it doesn’t make the demands we place on our celebrities any less hypocritical.
Get real, people. Morality should be taught at home and at church.
Expecting it from celebrities today is as stupid and naive as it was in Roman times.
Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Get the memo. And get over it.

Sexual Addiction? My Thoughts.

3115715258_a9d7e7550fSex addiction — which includes addiction to cybersex and porn — is one of the fastest, most destructive addictions on the rise out there.
Unfortunately, the discussion? It’s a joke. It’s always along the lines David Duchovny or Bill Clinton wisecracks. People fail to see that the nature of sex addiction is to destroy every relationship the addict has. It steals the addict from life, costs them friends and families, it shatters the respect others may have had for them, and instills a self-loathing of the lowest kind.
I remember captioning a television show (my day job) about cybersex addiction, for instance, where they stated simple cybersex/porn addictions could be fatal — cases had occurred where an addict remained seated, wrapped up in the porn/cybersex before them, for so many hours, that blood clots and cardiac events killed them. I’d never even considered that possibility. Continue reading

Celebrities & Smut: Mirren on Date-Rape, Duchovy on Sex Addiction

Late last night I put a cutesy “Helen Mirren rocks!” kind of posting up, and I woke up to see a message from Abby Dabby pointing out that Mirren has gone on record as saying date rape isn’t really something the courts should be involved in.
In an article coming out in the UK’s GQ, she’s said:

The actress also stated in the candid interview with British magazine GQ that it would be hard for women to press charges against someone they had planned on being sexually active with.She told the publication, “I was (date-raped), yes. A couple of times. Not with excessive violence, or being hit, but rather being locked in a room and made to have sex against my will.”
“I don’t think she (a female rape victim) can have that man into court under those circumstances.”

Every single time I have sex, it is a choice. Every single time I choose to be active, my partner’s receiving a gift from me. If I don’t say yes, it’s not a choice. If there’s no choice, it is arbitrary and a situation of force.
Force means rape. Continue reading

Hey, Got A Cam? Cybersex and Masturbation.

show me ur tits. squeeze em.
oh, yah, baby. ur so hot. hard now.

Ah, the internet: Where the flame of romance never dies.

I’ve been talking about masturbation for the last 10 days or so. How can I possibly ignore cybersex?
The butt of many jokes, cybersex is still vastly overlooked for its potential to destroy the modern relationship as we know it. But that’s changing. Mental health pros are finding themselves inundated with sex addictions these days – more than ever before. It turns out that cybersex is the crack cocaine of sex addiction.
It’s changing the dynamics of human relationships. Communication was already doing pretty shitty before this, but now it’s plummeting to all-time lows.
Now, I’m not trying to be an expert in double-speak here, but I gotta revisit earlier claims that masturbation wasn’t addictive. Let’s qualify that. In the same way that marijuana is not addictive, so too is masturbation not.
Dope, you can get pretty compulsive about. Hell, I’m first in line to admit to marijuana compulsions. It’s “not really” addictive because it can be kicked with a little self-control. I think masturbation’s the same. You can be compelled to do it far more than you should be doing it, yeah. Absolutely. But that ain’t addiction, that’s a user malfunction. It’s a user with an addictive personality, someone with lacks somewhere, who’s trying to fill the need with a substitute of choice.
Hell, that’s life, most days. That ain’t a candybar, honey, that’s a need for affection and someone’s lovin’ arms around ya. Same deal. The only thing is, masturbation’s so much easier to paint with that brush of judgement than, say, having a second helping of pasta. “Oh, but’s a cream sauce, I get it. I can relate.
Needs are needs, and sometimes we fullfil ‘em the wrong way, but we all got the needs, and we all got compulsions.
I’ve done cybersex. Sure. I masturbated when I did, sure. But he had it better at his end, ‘cos after all, cybersex is all about the verbs. Me, I got verbs. Girl’s got vocab, baby. So, I was left a little unquenched, but thank god I was in good hands: Mine.
And that’s the beauty of cybersex. It’s sex on demand, and you know it’s gonna deliver – every single time. With every click, every page, appeasement, baby. You get to fill your own needs, so you get off, fully, completely, each and every time. It leaves everything up to you, it’s more selfish, intensely personal, voyeuristic, and ultimately, it’s all in your head.
Just like every drug I’ve ever had. Personal. Selfish. Imaginative. Voyeuristic. All me. That’s drug use for you, whether you’re into cocaine or Jim Beam, so when anyone tells you cybersex ain’t just like a drug, tell ‘em for me that they don’t know shit.
I think there’s nothing wrong with a little cyber-dallying. Do I? No, I don’t. It’s not my bag – repetitive, uninspiring, and has the feel of those dirty jeans you find on the corner of the floor in a jam – does the job, takes care of the moment’s needs, but a little too loose’n’easy for a real good fit. However, if the right lit man came ‘round with a suitably sexy repertoire of vocab, I’d find myself curious how he’d play through words, sure.
Cybersex worries me, it does. I see dire times ahead for human relationships. I see a time when we’ll be unable to ask for sex in a healthy, seductive kind of way. I see romance and foreplay taking wrong turns. I see communication growing increasingly truncated, and I see us becoming far too introspective and inward-driven to really know how to interact in a meaningful way anymore. In that way, the masturbation is the enabling act that makes it feel “real” when it’s so not.
It’s freaky. I heard about Isaac Asimov’s Robot series and how, in one of the books, he predicted cybersex would transpire – in 3500 AD. Here we are, only 50 years later, doing exactly that — communicating through screens, performing for each other instead of being real, using shortcuts for dialogue instead of fully expressing what’s on our mind. As science fiction, it’s interesting, as reality, it’s disconcerting.
I think it all comes down to balance, really. Masturbation’s awesome, but if you’re sitting around your apartment masturbating all day (must be nice to have such resilient skin and tissue), you might want to consider if it’s doing as much for you as you’re letting yourself believe. It’s about reality checks and knowing when too much of a good thing’s too much. It’s about remembering that your home comes with a door, and when you open that door, a world is at your heels. This virtual shit, well… “Virtual” says it all, really: Nearly real, but, like, not.
I always love to say, “It is what it is.” In this instance, cybersex, masturbation, remember, it ain’t what it ain’t. I ain’t never gonna be what you want it to be. If you’re aware of that, then you’re fine. If you forget that, or lose the desire for the real deal, then you’ve got to take a look at yourself.

Addicted to love: When do you stop?

A reader contacted me recently to ask what had to be a very, very hard question to ask. To protect them, I have removed all reference to their identity.

Dear Cunt–
I have a major cheating problem. I love sex so much that it’s almost compulsive, almost a disorder. My love for sex has ruined every relationship I’ve been in. I can’t stop myself from cheating. Even if I’m completely happy in a relationship, my eyes are always wandering. Naturally I’m a sensation seeker, and I don’t know how to stop it. I know that it’s wrong and hurtful to cheat, yet I just keep doing it. I think maybe there is some type of psychological reason for this behavior. I’ve dated a few scumbags, but I’ve also dated some really good guys before. Either way, even if I am passionately in love, I still cheat. A friend gave me some advice recently when he said he thought that maybe I don’t feel like only ONE man can truly love me, and that is why I look to others. Have you ever heard of this situation? I feel like there is something wrong with me, like I don’t have control over it.
-Unintentionally Wanting

I’ve already responded to Unintentionally’s email, but I think it’s an important topic, and something people don’t like talking about.
Sex can be an addiction. Yes, there are folks out there snickering and saying shit like, “I’ll show you addicted…” But yes, it can be a compulsion, a life-affecting disorder. There are support goups for sex addiction, too.
I’m not a shrink. I don’t profess to have an inner Freud who can unlock the mysteries of the mind for my masses, but I’m at least a pretty with-it chick.
My speculation? Yeah, maybe, all right, maybe there are pangs of “no one man can ever love me enough,” kinds of sensations going on. Or maybe it’s something deeper, darker, like “no one man will ever love just me, so I need to protect myself and keep others on the horizon.” Or maybe it’s much more intense and buried than that. As Toucan Sam would say, “Only the nose knows. The nose always knows!”
The reasons for addictions of any kinds come from some pretty dark places. Places it takes more than just a flashlight and a curiousity to find your way around. Getting to the bottom of addictions takes courage, unflinching examination, and relentless studying. It’s hard work. It’s paralyzing at times, when you’re jumping without the only parachute that’s ever kept you insulated from the world. I don’t see why something like sex addiction would be any different.
Are you addicted? Well, has it negatively impacted your life? Have you chased away someone you love as a result? Has it ever affected your job? Has it ever affected your friendships? If you can answer yes to any of those, you might have a problem. But if you click here, you can answer a basic quiz that’ll give you a better notion on all ‘o this.
Like I says, I ain’t no shrink. I’m not some sorcerer of the psyche who’s able to wave a wand and make a diagnosis. This is my gut reaction, and the limit to which I feel comfortable commenting.
Sex Addicts Anonymous offers a support network that includes more than 750 meetings worldwide. There are online chat systems so you can talk to others like you. There are books, tapes, meetings, everything you need to have for an assessment of where you stand. Hell, there’s four or five groups that meet in my city, Vancouver, including one for gays and lesbians.
I’m betting there’s a few dickheads out there thinking, “Oh ho! Now there’s where to go when I need to be gettin’ a little somethin’-somethin’…” And if so, then it’s important to note that yes, you are indeed a dickhead. It ain’t a singles bar. These are people trying to eliminate unhealthy sex from their lives. Don’t fuck ’em, and don’t fuck with ’em.
I haven’t heard back from Unintentionally. I imagine she’s doing some soul-searching, or else she thinks I’m a twat. Either way, here’s hoping it comes together. What a shitty thing to be mired in. I’d like to hear back from you, chickie.