“The state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.”
I love this definition, mostly because I love the word ‘enslaved,’ mostly because that’s exactly what I am.
It’s interesting that addiction is always associated with drugs, and I understand that it’s because drugs are actually physically addictive, but I believe there are many other things out there equally addictive that don’t involve putting something into your vein or up your nose, but rather in your vagina.
There is such a thing as sexual addiction, and I know that because I saw the movie ‘Choke.’ Just kidding. There’s really a Sex Addicts Anonymous club out there, and people really use it. I personally don’t see why anyone would join, unless they’re not getting enough sex to fuel their addiction, in which case they probably want to meet people in their Sex Addicts club to have sex with.
I, on the other hand, don’t have a problem getting what I want, in more ways than one. I want to be clear on this: there’s a difference between working hard to get what you really want, and being spoiled. I am lucky enough to have been blessed with a mix of both because I have a great work ethic and I’m an only child. I also happen to have an attractive mother, so boys generally don’t have a problem with sleeping with me.
The boy I’m addicted to is the boy I’m in love with, who is also one of my soul mates (there are definitely more than one). To me, addiction is when you continue to do something or be somewhere or put something in your mouth even when you know how bad it is for you. You tell yourself before the day begins that you are not going to have anything to do with your addiction, but as soon as the thought crosses your mind later that day, you justify it and you convince yourself that it’s no big deal, and that THIS TIME you’re not just using your addiction to get your fix.
I say that boys ‘generally’ don’t have a problem with sleeping with me because there’s one in particular who does. It’s the one I’m in love with. And the reason he has a problem with it is because he’s addicted too. The second he texts me, my heart jumps. The minute we touch, our bodies get hot with desire.
No, this isn’t a trashy romance novel. It’s just the truth.
When he’s inside me, it’s hands down the best feeling in the entire world. It’s even better than drinking peppermint hot chocolate by the fire or sipping red wine with fancy cheese or getting a massage at the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. Okay, I’ve never experienced that last one, but I’m pretty sure his penis feels better than that. The only thing that’s better than him inside me, is him inside me after smoking a joint.
And that’s exactly what we do, and it’s exactly what fuels our addiction.
There’s the other part too, the part where we talk to each other about everything and share the same dreams and are in love with the same things. But at our age, the sex is more important than words because neither of us wants to think about how insanely awesome we would be if we ever actually got together, or the day we realize that we really can’t live without one another.
We’ve been through a lot together, from his painful breakup with a girl, to my annoying breakdown on the ride to Coachella. We’ve had sex in the hot tub, the car outside of LAX, the floor of his bathroom, and the stairwell of my apartment, to name a few. He wrote me a song about that time with the stairs and the Flip camera and the security camera, but never shared it with me until last night. He’s bad at exposing his true feelings, so he uses lyrics to get them across to me. And I don’t have a problem with it.
I also don’t have a problem going to bed at 3am and waking up with him at 5:30am when he has to leave for work. Because I’m addicted. And you can’t fight the addiction.