I have a friend who has a friend. This girl is an actress, and is constantly doing research for new roles. It’s very important for every role that she’s able to get into character and really understand the psychology behind the person she is playing.
One day, her agent called her with the magic words: She got the part!
As a sex addict. This girl, the actress, is anything but a sex addict, but nevertheless, she immediately got cracking on her research. She decided to go to a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting. Now, these meetings are just like other meetings aimed at helping you battle your demons (we’ve all seen Blades of Glory: Chazz Michael Michaels, anyone? Sex on ice) where you sit in a ring and tell strangers about your problem. She sat in the circle and patiently listened to addicts of the flesh pouring their hearts out. She was surprised to find that the other sex addicts did in fact, not, look like Michael Fassbender. She couldn’t decide whether to be humbled, honoured or amused when the 55 year old Asian professor next to her took the liberty during a coffee break to volunteer the information that he’d “totally do her, but he really didn’t wanna relapse right now”. She excused him for that. When the time came for her to share her secret demons of abundance, she said her name and got the standard unified greeting. But what could she say? Forever the actress, she felt the crowd waiting for her performance. But given the honest circumstance of the meeting, she also felt it wrong to give them a story of feigned passionate plentitude…The outrageous stories of carnal shame and pain of the rest of the group had punctuated her big, but prudish, heart and she became even more aware of her own discomfort.
“I’m sorry, I’m not really a sex addict.”
Mmmhm, of course you’re not- the people said, giving each other knowing looks like “Boy, she’s in deep”.
But the more the group tried to make her feel like being a sex addict was totally OK and she had to accept it, the more she felt obliged to tell them, in detail, about her lack of interest in sex. The group grew silent and an awkward sense of discomfort filled the room… not…interested…in..sex? Now they all turned towards the group leader/ psychologist with quizzical looks. What was this all about?
“You are a Sexual Anorexic”
Yes, there is such a thing. It’s when you, apparently, starve yourself of sex. The girl subsequently had to stay on and go to the meeting after (for the sex anorectics) and give another account of her (lack of) sex life. See what you can learn if you just try something new? She started going to the meetings regularly, and now has an (almost) normal sex life. Eh, fuck the word normal, it’s frowned upon in support groups. She has a sex life, but that’s good enough for me.
(im)moral of the story: Starving is dangerous. Sexual Scurvy?