What Addicts Really Want

On kink and casual sex sites it’s common to see terms like “cock worship” and “pussy worship” bandied about. I never quite understood exactly what these terms meant, but my best guess is amazing head delivered by someone who cannot get enough of the receiver’s genitals. While not everyone on these sites is a sex addict, many of them are. I’ll go out on a limb and say I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone talk about worshipping genitals who wasn’t an active sex addict (sorry if I’m offending any non-addict genital worshipers who will undoubtably find their way here after googling “cock worship” and/ or “pussy worship”).

It’s interesting that worship, a term which literally means reverence or devotion to a deity i.e., a higher power, is used in this context. I picture religious pilgrims knelt down in prayer between a stranger’s legs. Why not say “I’m into cock adoration” or “pussy devotion,” or maybe, “I want to venerate your genitals”? These words all have the same meaning as “worship,” without the spiritual element.

I was never into worshiping sex parts, but this reminds me of other behavior I did have. When I was active in my love addiction, I spent most of my free time looking for that perfect partner. I thought once I found the man who would take care of me and make me feel whole, then I could start living my life. Having this man in my life seemed almost as essential as oxygen. Once I found him, then I could work on my career, my finances, my writing, and all my other hopes and dreams. I didn’t realize it then, but what I was really looking for was my Higher Power.

Similarly, on the BDSM sites I used to frequent I was quite literally looking for a man that I could turn my will and my life over to, which is basically Step 3. Except instead of making a decision to turn their will and life over to a dominant, 12-steppers turn it over to the care of a Higher Power.

This all seems so obvious to me now. The whole time I thought I was searching for an amazing lover I could lose myself in, who would take away all my pain; a boyfriend that would save me from myself and make life tolerable; and a dominant who would take over and make all my decisions for me; I was actually looking for a Higher Power.

I don’t presume to speak for all addicts, but it seems like this could be a major component in most addictions. We’re trying to fill a God-sized hole with drugs, alcohol, food, sex, men, whatever we can find. It’s an impossible task. There will never be enough of anything to fill that hole. Note: I don’t think Higher Power and God have to be synonymous. For me, they are, but I know many atheists and agnostics in 12 steps who put their faith in a non-god higher power—nature, for example.

The more work I do on my recovery, the greater my relationship with my Higher Power becomes. And with that relationship comes hope, peace, and serenity, and everything else I thought I would gain once I found the perfect man.

Missing the Lame

The other day I had dinner with my friend Polly and her new fiance. They met on Match.com. After he finished entertaining us with a story about his worst online dating experience ever, my friend said, “Imperfect (man, I really need a better pen name) has a lot of great Match.com horror stories.”

The funny thing is, I have never actually been on Match.com. Back when I was dating guys I had met on CollarMe or Fetlife, my vanilla friends would ask where I had met the man of the week. “Oh… on, um… Match.com,” I would reply and then quickly change the subject. This was a sufficient enough answer for most of my friends, but Polly always had a lot of follow up questions about Match, how it worked, and the kind of guys who were on it. So, I would make up a bunch of bullshit. Apparently Polly bought it, hook line and sinker, because one day, after she broken up with her last fiance, she told me that she had joined Match.com, on my recommendation. So in a way, my lies helped her find true love — well, convenient love, at least.

Meeting the finance wouldn’t have been a good opportunity to come clean about my (formerly?) kinky lifestyle so I shared my “Match.com” horror stories. I told them the one about the dude that sent a couple of tightly cropped face pics then turned out to be about 200 lbs. bigger than his profile had stated. He thought that buying me lunch gave him license to try to make out with me… in public… in broad daylight. I had to push him away several times as he lurched at me with a wide gaping maw, looking like he was trying to swallow me whole rather than kiss me. I also told them the story of the tool that made me drive an hour in rush hour traffic (his car was in the shop), acted like he was high on coke, then didn’t even offer to pay for my drinks. At the end of the date, he had the nerve to ask me for a ride back to my part of town, because he was meeting “a friend” there.

At the end of the evening, I found myself thinking, wow, I really miss online dating! Not because of Polly and her fiance’s questionable love connection, but because I miss the shitty dates that would later become entertaining anecdotes. Totally healthy, right? No drama addiction here.

Recent experiences have shown me that I’m not quite ready to start dating again. I might rock at collecting and later relating bad and even traumatic date stories, but I still suck at healthy dating.