Once a Junkie...

Hi, my name is MM, and I’m an addict.

First it was cigarettes.
Then alcohol.
Then drugs.
And danger.

I’ve been able to quit pretty much everything (I still drink some), but with an addictive personality, there’s always something I’m jonesing for.

Right now, it’s cock.

I’ve become a fuck-junkie, and as any junkie will tell you, we’ll go to pretty extreme measures to scratch that itch or chase that dragon.
The problem with being a fuck-junkie is that it’s like gambling: sometimes there is a definite payoff, so it makes it harder to quit, or indeed, to address the habit in any rational way whatsoever.
With drugs/alcohol/cigarettes, I never was able to re-experience that initial high, so the level of payoff diminished every time I used. I was able, eventually, to work out the cost-benefit analysis such that using was no longer viable.

Not so, sex.

I don’t know if it’s sex with this guy, or just the allure of mass quantities of decent quality sex in general, but I can see myself spiraling, and it is pissing me off.
I don’t think it’s Junior, as he has little to offer (for me) outside of the fact that he has many elements of the physical appearance I favor: he is tall, muscular, athletic, good-looking with a rough edge, great smile.
And... he is great in bed. He doesn’t have a nine-inch cock or anything, but he certainly knows how to use what he does have.

But, as I’ve mentioned before, beyond primal attraction there is not much to the relationship, and generally I feel uncomfortable trying to spend any time with him with clothes on. It’s like babysitting, or humoring him just to get what I want later. Very calculating, very soul-sucking. Very junkie-like. I become cold, mean. I don't like what I see when I look in the mirror.

I’m already ashamed of the way I am willing to compromise myself to get my fix. I make ridiculous accommodations, I make excuses to get out of things that may make me unable to get laid; I get irritable and short when I go too long without. I go through the motions of living the mundane parts of life (read: any time I’m not having sex), and daydream about my next hit.

It’s classic junkie behavior, and it’s even worse, I think, when I can see that it is happening. I’m getting that hard addict temperament again – you can see it too, can’t you? The Uber-Bitch is all over my last post. It’s amazing how the writing - words on a screen – what is unsaid between the lines, show me who I am, what I’m becoming.