We become addicted to things which never give us what we need.
I think this is a generally true statement.
The background is a conversation I had with a young woman in a bar the other night. She said she had been with 300 men (give or take: I don’t think she keeps a logbook, so that may be on the low side) and has only had an orgasm ONCE (with a South African she remembered well). It took her three months to have an orgasm with her current boyfriend, even though at first they were having sex 4x a day.
It’s all about attention, and the power of control–for a moment–through sexual attraction.
But at a minimum we all want an orgasm out of sex, and as an ideal emotional intimacy.
And drinking never gives me what I want. Not really. It always seems like it should, as does food, to which I also have a mild addiction, but it doesn’t. I’m the same me, with the same feelings, and with a lethargy and sometimes mild nausea the next day. Nothing changes. I don’t grow. The pain does not go away.
She shared her life story, and her behavior made sense to me. Her life has been one of continual disappointment and betrayal. So she likes the approximation of intimacy without the emotional risk. “One and done”, she kept saying. I get that. I am wired a lot like that myself.
My work continues. I am getting more flashes of something better. They remain rare, but for most of my life there has been nothing but intellect and an abstract hope kept alive by force of will.