Poster Boy for Sex Addicts (cont'nd)

For many years after I was a teen-aged gigolo, I suffered never-ending vampire-like hunger, continuously trying to fill that hole which could never be filled. Although I seemed like I had a great life, I was a miserable, lost soul, and sex was my drug of choice. Reggie Jackson struck out 2,597 times. If you add all those whiffs together, it's like he didn't even play for five whole years of his career. That's how I feel about being a sex addict. If you add up all the time I spent chasing and having bad sex, it's like I threw away five years of my life. And then it took years and years of intense hypnotherapy to learn to control my impulses, and lead a happy, harmonious life. But in the end, I'm happy to be a poster boy for sex addicts. Cuz if just one knucklehead out there sees my story on 48 Hours, and gets some help for himself, then will I consider myself a smashing success. People ask me if I learned anything from all my years of wicked, sinful, carryings-on. You'd certainly hope so, wouldn't you? I reply. I guess I'd say that when I stopped running away from my misery and embraced it, I was finally able to stare my demons down and conquer them. When I told my story, spoke my truth, I was set free. The other thing being a poster boy for sex addiction has taught me is that, in America, if you can't figure out a way to make money off your misery, you're doing something wrong.
nth.

Artwork © Ben Lokey