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Updated on August 12, 2013

"SEXUAL ADDICTION" (Part 9 of 21)

Ultimately, it is some form of guilt (i.e. - regret, embarassment, angst. etc.) manipulating each and every personal decision made throughout our lives. This is particularly true as we mature and savor the collective flavors of life. In our sophomore years, through decisions made, every action is transient, every reaction temporary. In youth we are supermen and superwomen, indestructible and infallible. Like emperors and empresses there are neither senates to oppose us, nor constitutions powerful enough for our deposition. Like Pilate, we wash our hands of responsibility and embrace hedonistic pleasure; Ahhh, yes, to be young!

In our youth we tend to not much care about creating emotionally wounded ‘victims,' particularly since such concepts are so unimpressive and so intensely ‘adult.' The word ‘guilt' becomes little more than five randomly, haphazardly strewn together letters as alien as some unknown foreign language. It is as we age that guilt of this youthful mistake, guilt of that youthful mistake becomes the individual crosses we bear in maturity.

However, as time passes our abrasive edges begin to smooth.

Moreso than yesterday's youthful daydreams of success or achievement, through maturity we recognize that what truly motivates us is usually just an intense desire to not be deemed an asshole by our collective peers.

Goals? Success? Ambition? These are little more than results of how we respond to the unfolding circus comprising our individual lives. Goals, success, ambition: all lofty notions, however quite secondary to our ultimate fear of having to tote through life the guilt of having intensely hurt somebody in our past. True, our assorted trials in life will either deliver us from or depose us into loneliness and sadness.

As maturity ushers us from the ashes of the people we'd once been way back then, rarely do we recognize the transition into our current selves way up now. How fortunate men and women are when, one day, without prejudice or fear, we identify the fact that although chaos might have worked nicely for us in our younger days, the inner peace brought about by living through life's trials is truly liberating. Usually any such ‘grounding' tends to come about only after a string of dramatic, eye-opening events. In fact, isn't that really what maturity is anyway; making concessions to convention while gingerly seceding from the arrogance of youth?

In essence, men tend to mature only through the consequences of trial and error; through the painful realities they must come to own resulting from a successfully repetitious string of failures. For example, take a failed relationship: A man will never love his woman more than when, in 20/20 hindsight, he takes ownership of the reality that it was his actions, his choices, his decisions which caused him lose her in the first place. Once we men admit exactly how we screwed up, only then are our errant ways appreciated. No matter how intensely men love their women, we will invariably love them more after we drive them away. In our subsequent abandon, everything which once seemed so vitally important (i.e. - drinking, smoking, blow-jobs, threesomes...whatever) suddenly becomes meaningless. Frequently good old-fashioned male stubbornness coupled with the inability to see beyond instant gratification is, at some point or another, what ruins most men's relationships in most men's lives. Thus, the underlying conundrum of human males is that, even though we are the physically dominant of the species, we still are inherently stupid creatures.

The path to wisdom and maturity is cobbled with failed trials and embarrassing errors. As I have always charged, repetition is indeed the key to excellence. In keeping with this view, successful men become successful as the result of maturing through life's mistakes and failures, not in spite of them.

Throughout my twenties and even into my early thirties I only suspected that I was an incomplete man. Ultimately, it would take years of bad choices and assorted failures for me to identify that I was indeed incomplete. My frivolous and extravagant childhood had been glued together with what can only be described as the stability of a ricocheting molecule.

In youth, I hadn't matured through the steady, guiding hand of a father, but moreso by an awkward cause-and-effect result of those with whom my life engaged. As a young adult, when I became displeased with others I pouted or resorted to boyish games. When I behaved in ridiculous fashion, saying or doing hurtful things to others, it was only after people became displeased with me that I realized I'd somehow screwed-up. Essentially, I grew into an over-grown child, lumbering about, masquerading as an adult, often times hurting those foolish enough to lend me their hearts. I wasn't spoilt, just a monster, incapable of true emotional density.

In retrospect, I had never known the difference between hearing and listening. Hearing is easy and is merely the automated process of one of our five senses. Listening is an acquired art all too often resigned to youth. The warning flags were raised; yet, thirty-something me had conditioned myself to unlearn that youthful art of listening which, after a few drinks and a couple of stale cigarettes seemed so very, very.....comfortable.

In listening, I listened like an escaped prisoner: faint of breath and straining to hear the approaching steps of pursuers. In retrospect, this reality, I too now own.

I had heard the term ‘sexual addiction' and always assumed it to be some sort of joke. I disbelieved that sex could be an addiction and, if it was, well what the hell was wrong with that anyway? Ha! An addiction to sex, as opposed to heroin, or coke? As I surmised, big deal and so what, and in that order.

Somehow I just didn't see ‘sexual addiction' as a problem. Maybe today, I still don't. However, the biggest difference between the person I was then and the person I am now, is that in maturity I've come to appreciate just how a sexual addiction can so easily, and rapidly, become unhealthy. In this, that is essentially where having, or not having a "problem" can be defined. There is not necessarily anything ‘wrong' with obsessing about sex, per se, however when somebody starts taking dangerous risks, or begins putting parts of their life off or on hold, then that is unhealthy.

In my research, and through a process of taking ownership I am discovering that sexual addiction is not all tits and feathers, nor is it something to be disregarded or taken lightly.

My own sexual addiction didn't so much lay dormant throughout my first failed marriage as it was simply non-defined and ignored. The more I attempted to suppress my addiction to sex, the more I found my thoughts consumed by it.

A lie can never be the truth, and simply stated, lies are the very essence of affairs; that is why the entire nefarious process is called ‘cheating,' Eventually, no matter how well-crafted the deception, the truth is always revealed.

Men, let this be a lesson to you: It took a mere forty-three days for my ex-wife to discover that I'd been living a lie. To me, everything made perfect and absolute sense. I was in rosy-tinted denial and instead preferred a strong erection to a strong resolve; a blatant trait of the logic-process indicative of sexual addiction. However, it would take me another fewyears to identify the addiction in its entirety, or its specific relationship to me.

For me, there was no middle ground; there was black and there was white, but there was no gray. There was a dead-stop or one-million-miles-per-hour, but there was nothing else in between. This was how I had always been. Compromise? Huh? What did those ten randomly, haphazardly strewn together letters mean?

In actuality, sexual addiction is rarely about sex. Rather, sexual addiction typically concerns itself with symbiotic power and extremist control.

The affair that ended my first marriage was an absolutely animalistic portrayal of what I have since come to term ‘Empowerment Sex'. (essentially a consentual surrendering of self to another's complete and utter sexual gratification.) Ultimately, the ‘goal' of sex (generally speaking, the orgasm itself) is merely the resulting byproduct, the hunter's trophy, in the quest for both power and control.

Thus back then, for someone like me, sexual addiction was the perfect outlet in which to loose myself. Today, in maturity and working towards a healthy 2nd attempt at marriage, I respect proper boundaries that were forged in the failure of my first marriage. As I continue my own research into carious profiles of our human psychological conditions and afflictions, I uncover more and more regarding the essence of sexual addiction. In learning more about the phenomenom that encompasses me all those years ago, I am discovering, through a sort of 20/20 hindsight, more about me as a person. A whole person. I have my rules for living life now, and wonder how they would have governed me back then in regards to problem solving and decision making. Oh well... Spilt milk and all that jazz. But now, into the freshman phase of my 40's, I conclude that this newfound sense of responsibility and accountability is relatively new for me.

I still, in many regards, seek rather pointed direction.

Uh, So to speak...

/ / / / END OF PART NINE / / / /


© 2007 - R. MARTIN BASSO


Part 10: The Meaning Of Life Is Ridiculously Simple


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