Sex Addiction: The Mid-Level Wal-Mart Executive
What is sex addiction? Aren’t all humans sex addicts? Afterall, we all have sexual urges. The simple answer: no. Not everyone approaches sex the same way. Not everyone is an addict. Not everyone abuses sex, just like not everyone abuses alcohol.
I am an addict.
For me, my sex addiction began with fear, lots of fear. I was afraid of getting pregnant and even more afraid of contracting a sexually transmitted disease. I avoided a lot of sex in my early twenties because of these fears. But then I discovered alcohol. It unlocked the vault to my sexuality and sense of adventure. When I drank, my fears went away, for the most part. A drunk, sexually repressed mind is a powerful thing. But I took it too far.
Like all my addictions, I can’t remember exactly how it started. The essential components were pent-up energy and isolation. In my early thirties I lived in the River Market and worked in the music department at Barnes and Noble. I was teaching myself HTML and had built a website called Wrongland. It was a place where people could find weird things hidden in the website and win prizes (remember onmouseovers?). But they had to do some work in order to find the gifts. I changed the location of these hidden gifts all the time in my website.
I was on Friendster and began my love affair with social media around 2002. I don’t remember having any close friendships, only work friends. I was kind of introverted and preferred to stay in my apartment and watch certain videos on endless repeat. I watched a documentary on the architect Antonio Gaudi over 500 times during this phase.
Being within walking distance of bars meant that I could walk home drunk and be fine. During this time, I have only a few solid memories of seducing men while I was drunk. It became like an out of control movie or a virtual world, except it was 100% real. I acted out my fantasies without regard to mental health or safety.
I’m not even sure how often I did it. It became a game for me, and after a while, I felt a little like a predator. I didn’t care about the men, all I was interested in was testing them to see if they would sleep with me.
I’m fairly certain I slept with one of the members of Laika and the Cosmonauts. I really wish I could remember this experience. But alcohol has sealed it off from my consciousness.
I joined downtown associations in Kansas City just to find new sexual conquests. I have a vivid memory of one such meeting. I believe I had joined a Downtown Revitalization club. During the meeting, while a speaker was presenting boring slides, I was scanning the room, in search of my next conquest. I found a beautiful man with slightly long hair that was interesting to me. I fixated on him throughout the entire lecture, imagining us together later on. But at the end of the meeting, he slipped away. There was always an after-meeting social that took place in the Hotel Phillips bar. I always wanted to be at the most expensive hotels because adding wealth to my sexual conquests made my rushes higher.
At the bar my eyes settled upon an attractive, 30-ish brunette, wearing glasses with a slim build. He looked Jewish. After nervously imagining myself talking to him, and rehearsing what I would say, I walked up to him and started a conversation. I can’t remember what we talked about. By this time, I was drunk, just drunk enough to lose my common sense and fear of rejection. I continued drinking more while we talked. At a certain point in the conversation I suggested he give me the number of his hotel room. I believe my method was just to suggest that I visit him at night. I was pretty demanding. I remember being extrememely blunt and to the point. Basically, I said, “either you give me the number to your hotel room and we go from there, or I’m out of here.”
When I was drinking, I wanted what I wanted. And I usually didn’t have much patience. I was selfish and exacting. You either go along with my fantasy or I’m gone.
The Jewish guy wrote down the number of his hotel room and told me to come later. I waited for about an hour in the bar, drinking more.
I remember how excited I was as I went up the elevator, holding that hotel number in my hand. When I knocked on the door, he answered. Like a weird movie, I was now on center stage in my life. Adrenalin rushing, and a “what will happen next” sign hovered above my head.
After I entered his room, he sat next to me on a couch and we began talking a little. He put his palm on my cheek and I brushed it away. That was a little too fast for me. I asked if he was married. He said yes. Then I told him how disgusting he was for wanting to cheat on his wife. I asked if he had kids. He said yes. Again, I told him that he was a vile loser. I asked about his job. He told me he was a mid-level executive at Wal-Mart. I told him I refused to shop at Wal-Mart and that Wal-Mart sucks.
I think he liked being teased. He was fairly intelligent, not amazingly so, but I think he was amused that I had chosen him for that night. The reason he didn’t mind my abusive comments is because he knew what was coming next. I wanted to sleep with him, so he could tell that my mean comments were loaded with sexual needs.
The beautiful thing about getting conquests in this manner is that you can be 100% honest. You can tell a man he’s a piece of shit, and he doesn’t care. Most men are the same in the sexual arena. They just want sex and will put up with mean treatment, as long as it’s followed by a romp. A cheating Wal-Mart mid-level executive. How embarrassing. What kid says to themselves, “When I grow up, I want to be a mid-level executive for the sleaziest discount store on earth.”
He started kissing me while we were on the couch. It seemed weird but I liked the attention, sort of. I then told him that I’m a germaphobe and that he better use a condom. He told me he’s a germaphobe too. I think he meant it. I told him that I wished we could have sex, with each of our bodies enclosed in germ-free bags.
He put on a condom. Honestly, I can’t remember the sex. I got lost in it, though, tried to forget that I was having sex with a cheating Wal-Mart mid-level executive, but somewhere in me, I was happy. I got what I came for that night. If I had ended up going home after that boring lecture with no excitement, no teasing, no real human interaction, then that would have been a negative. Instead, I had an exciting, bizarre experience that taught me that a large percentage of men will cheat on their wives if given the chance. (Note to self: don’t get married.)
When I left his hotel room early the next morning, I had the feeling of being a prostitute when the hotel staff looked at me. I knew the difference, but they did not. Prostitutes don’t get to tell their clients that they are pieces of shit, well, unless they are paid to purposely mistreat them.
