Category: singles

Beware! Female Sex Addicts Are Lurking Among Us

There is a vintage Steven Sills song.  It is called “Love the One You’re With.”  That seemed like wise words in earlier days when not only the more responsible among us but even the young had less concerns.   Today there are many things to fear, from food additives to terrorists.   You can catch every kind of disease, including some we never heard of.   So it’s hard sometimes just to have sex with someone you like, yet alone love the one you’re with.

Nevertheless, sex addiction is on the rise.  Or so they say, whoever “they” are.  I always suspect the “they’s” in this case are the ones promoting a new fear and making money from it by exploiting the susceptible.  Hey, if you can sell drugs for “Restless Leg Syndrome,” you can hold therapy sessions to cure people from wanting too much sex.   I know people who it seems the notion of sex never seems to cross their minds anymore.  Either they have given up or gotten realistic.  Or don’t know the difference.   It’s hard to say.  But I digress.

Back to the rising tide of sex addiction.    Turns out women are sex addicts as well as men.  There’s a revelation for you.   Not quite the Rapture, but nevertheless I’ll give you time to absorb it.  Women chasing around in search of wanton, mindless sex.    Whew!  How could they?

What’s more, the number of  female sex addicts is rising.  Whether the figures are on the increase or more women want this sort of attention is hard to say.    Perhaps by surrendering yourself to therapy as the great wanton hussy, you can achieve recognition for being sexual.     Or you can meet some cute guys with the same ideas.  I don’t know   But, yes, according to a recent article in the London Times women can be prone to sex addiction right along with men.

According to the article, thirty percent of the people being treated for sex addiction are female.   Not exactly a fifty-fifty proposition but notable just the same.  One woman talks about her longest romantic relationship lasting all of three months.  Other women talk about the need for intimacy, to be accepted, to be perceived as attractive.   Some talk about the romance and fantasy, the thrill of the hunt.  You know, what we typically call men stuff.

A noted writer, Susan Cheever, just wrote a book about her own sex addiction.   The book is called,  Desire: Where Sex Meets Addiction, for those who are interested.  Cheever’s father was iconic author John Cheever who it appears struggled with his own sexual behavior.   So then the question arises–is sexual addiction much like drug addiction or alcoholism?  Is it something that is passed down from one generation to another?

One must wonder if addictive personality is passed through the genes.   Sometimes it will manifest itself in the similar practices of one’s parents.   Sometimes the children will find a new channel and take their addictive personality down a new road of dependency.  Or they pair them up–alcoholism, drug and sex addiction– the Dependency Combo.  A Deli Special sandwich.    Hold the pickle.  This is all conjecture, but it seems to bear out in most cases.

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A woman has needs.  A man had needs.   A man can fulfill these needs, as Lenny Bruce once wrote, by screwing wet sand.   Anything that has intercourse with wet sand is not someone easily reasoned with.  They have an urge and they respond.  Esteem issues may enter into it.  But then again, that would give men more credit for their sexual consciousness than may ever be necessary.  Or realistic.

Women on the other hand think about it differently.   Most women.   But then there are women who are just horny as hell and just want hot sex, a shower and the time to move on down the line.   It is safe to say that they have dated.   They didn’t like what they found.   They were looking for romance and found eels in suits and jeans instead.   Or they found love and were bitterly disappointed.

Whatever their story, now they want to get their rocks off.   Perhaps it is vindication.  It may be affirmation of their good looks.   It may be a snatch at the gold ring of fantasy.   You read enough romance novels and you got to at least once try to put it into practice.   In any event, for one reason or another, there are women in this world who have decided they would rather have sex with anyone than sit and home eating ice cream and watching romantic movies that remind them of what  they are missing in life.

There are women out there who just don’t care.   They don’t want intimacy.  They want sex.  They want to get off not buy into someone else’s fantasy.   These are the type of women we love to disparage.   Some of us wish to disparage.  Others wonder where are they and what are they doing on this Saturday night?  Do you have their number?

I guess the main thing about addiction is not whether it is in control.  Addiction by its name means you are out of control.   The main thing about addiction is whether or not you are doing harm to others.   Are you busting any bubbles, wrecking families, whatever?   Then you may want to take a look at what you are doing.

Some will protest and claim the addicts are doing harm to themselves.  Yes they are.   They sure are.  Let’s face it addictive behavior hardly promotes a positive life force.   It is fair to say the spirit is wanting.   But then there are other things that may be worse.   Life in a vacuum comes to mind.  Life searching for the perfect mate to find anything but that.   Life wondering who you are and what you want.

So if you see a woman who is a confessed sex addict, she may be confessing not out of some twelve step surrender, but out of self-awareness.   Don’t try to intervene.  Don’t try to help her.  Just ask for her number.  It would probably do the both of you some good.

Frontier Justice? Justifiable Homocides Are Up, According to FBI

There is a cliched line in too many movies to remember where the protagonist proclaims,” he never killed anyone who didn’t deserve killing,” or something to that effect.   And despite all the socially sensitive rhetoric to the contrary a good many of us have contemplated, however briefly, those we wouldn’t mind seeing removed from the face of the Earth.   They may be the distant evil, the Osama Bin Laden’s or the molester and killer of juveniles they find in some distant state.   Or they may be something we know, someone we know only too well.  But there have been times when we think the world would be a better place without these people sucking up our precious oxygen.

According to an article in the USA Today, as well as dozens of other publications, the FBI has reported justifiable homicides have been on the increase over the past couple of years.   The article reported that 391 killings at the hands of the police were proved justifiable.  The common citizenry is lagging behind, having racked up a mere 254 justifiable homicides during the past year.   That is close to one a day.

Certain law enforcement analysts are claiming this increase in justifiable homicides is a result of changing attitudes on the streets.  Police feel more threatened, more overwhelmed by dangerous criminals with advanced firepower, so they are more prone to put them down, rather than risk death and injury trying to arrest them.   As for the public, the article says that citizens are taking greater responsibility for their own defense.

I would think to some degree this is a modern day version of frontier justice.   Or, as the old blues song goes, “I would rather be judged by twelve than carried by six.”   I realize gun ownership is a hot button issues.  It was more so a few years back.   There are pros and cons and the beat goes on as it does with any issues deemed controversial.  Passions build on both sides.
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More to the point, people with guns can screw up and in a drunken rage kill their neighbors or, even worse, their loved ones.   At the same time an armed citizenry gives criminals pause.   Let’s face it, until the police come rescue you from a home invasion, the police being as understaffed as they are, all that could be left of you and your family is another gnarly story for the six o’clock news.   Besides, neighbors and fellow citizens love it when someone protects himself by shooting down the bad guys.

We have instant hero grocery store clerks.   We read stores of women who were would-be rape victims but left their would-be rapists lying dead on the sidewalk.   I recall a story in Santa Monica, where the poor store owner was robbed time and again, and each time he shot it out and often killed the robbers.  He was famous, sure, but he was like the fastest gun in the West.   Idiot armed robbers trying to make their reputations in whatever club they belonged just had to try him.   The store owner finally gave up in disgust and sold the business.

I think it is fair to say that part of justifiable homicide is the fact that there is little doubt someone is trying to harm you.   If someone is trying to harm you and is killed it means they are killed in the middle of the crime.   They are not killed later that afternoon or the following Thursday.   Frontier justice is dealt out at the existential moment of the crime.   So with the economy as bad as it is, a trials being so costly, one could argue shooting down violent criminals is saving cities a lot of money.   It may be a specious argument, but I’m sure I’m not the first one to make it.

So in the coming year, with people really upset about the economy, I mean really pissed off, I suppose we will be seeing more justifiable homicides.   After the country was raped by its politicians and bankers, I would dare say the common criminal doesn’t stand a prayer.

Plastic, the Buzz Word of the Sixties, is Causing Health Concerns

For years industry has lived down the arguably unfair 60’s Hippie labeling as everything artificial, uniform and lacking in spirit as “plastic.”   Now the greatest concern with plastic may well be the health risks.   In a new study that was published on BreitBart the plastics used in food cans, baby bottles and just about everything else may increase the risk of heart disease and diabetes.   Use of plastics may result in reproductive issues as well.

This is pretty crazy.  It is also controversial with the plastics industry and other related industries denying all claims of danger, while growin evidence indicates there might be a few problems with plastics.   If health hazards are definitely proved this will have tremendous impact.   Think of the bottled water industry.  We will be going back to the faucet and demanding cleaner tap water.   There’s a switch.

This may also create an industry for environmentally sound and sustainable bottles and packaging.   There are reports already that petroleum based plastic bags will soon be replaced with those made from sugar.   Maybe you can eat the bag, after you get finished with its contents.

Meanwhile the controversy will rage for some time to come.   There is too much money on the table for the plastics industry to concede the potential health hazards.   Also, we are not the most innovative society and not very quick to change our habits.   What society is, really?  We are used to what we are used to, and we may keep doing it until…well…we do something else.

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And if plastic increases the risk of heart disease, the major killer, and diabetes, which is not only a killer but leads to sexual disfunction, then think of the impact it will have on the sexual industries.  I don’t mean pornography here, but everything from the alluring commercials and fashion ads, to the way we perceive ourselves drinking beer.   Could put us through lots of changes.

Talk about spoiling the mood.  I guess the upside would be all the money we save on dating.  Who wants to date if the possibility of sex is not in the offing?   Some.  I guess.   But not all that many.   And forget about the lingerie and candles.   A person could lose faith.  Or turn to it.  Hard to say.

So meanwhile, about that beer, drink it out of a glass bottle.   Use tap water, and refrigerate that in glass or ceramic.   Don’t eat off of plastic and don’t be microwaving your leftovers in a plastic bag or styrofoam box.   That should help.  Until something else comes along.

Doing the Laundry on Saturday Night

I live in a high rise.   As with most things, there are pluses and minuses to living in a high rise. The best part of living in a high rise is the views.   And then there are the conveniences.   There are cleaners in the building, markets adjacent.   Makes life easier in some ways.

You develop a sense of living in a community in a high rise.   That’s often an asset.  But just as often when you have noisy or lousy neighbors, the community seems more like a tenement than a high rise.   Then there are the party sessions and the neighbors who act like they just wandered in from a cave just a few short weeks before.

But one thing about life in a high rise and for that matter any building where the laundry room in centralized and accessible to all.   You get to see who is doing their laundry on Saturday night.   Surely, there are older folk, or middle aged couples who between showings on the pay per view race up and down the elevator to get in a load or two.   But then there are the singles.   You see very few younger couples doing the laundry together on Saturday night.  Just singles.   Single men.  For sure.  And a lot of single women.

Perhaps there is no better indicator that life ain’t exactly rich with romance than someone doing their laundry on a Saturday night.    The only other indicator that life is a drag is eating alone, table for one on Saturday night.   It means the networking efforts have failed, the online dating sites have yielded nada,  and the fix up-blind date schemes and situations have resulted in disillusionment.  So here you sit.  Doing the laundry on Saturday night.   Could be the title of a country song.
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I guess the one advantage of doing the laundry on Saturday night is you don’t have to look your best.   Slop around in those sweats and tee shirts that should have been thrown out when the Chicago Cubs last won the pennant.  And oh those pink acrylic fluffy slippers.   Ironically, perhaps, it is not  just the homely sort who stuff the washers and dryers on Saturday night.   There are attractive men and women, sitting on those molded plastic chairs.   Now some women may not be what you call socially adroit, and some of the men may be geeky enough, so inundated with that lonely guy thing, that finding romance may have washed out of their hopes like a rip tide from Hurricane Ike.

There is something to be said for the fact that the laundry doers being seen doing their laundry on Saturday night.   Maybe they don’t realize that people take notice.  Or more than likely they don’t really care anymore.   They are lonely and miserable, and your sneers or pity won’t change the fact they can’t find a date, and dates cannot find them.    What’s really odd, is upon observation, they don’t seem to talk to each other.   You would think they would somehow form a lonely impromptu and random laundry club on Saturday Night.  Exchange numbers, swap spit.  Do something.  Or at least talk with each other, down in the laundry room.   I guess they don’t want to admit to another human that life has left them wanting.

And because of the funky outfits, the matted and unwashed hair and probable bad breath, the laundry on Saturday night crowd is not even a prospect for the other lonely people wandering in from the movies, bars and restaurants, empty handed.   In a perfect world the laundry room could be the post-closing time episode, the salvation in desperation, where those wandering  or staggering in from the parking lot could pick up on something that looks like Gilda Radner, as the Vick’s Vapo Rub-coated Lisa Lubner, in an old Saturday Night Live sketch.   Maybe smelly and gnarly, but, hey, it’s a heartbeat.

But I guess sometimes the world is a cruel place, and people have to fend for themselves in withstanding the harshness.   Where the rewards are meager, at best.  Where those that come home alone from bars are burdened only with a liquor tab.   And those compelled to do the laundry on Saturday Night never  suffer from a shortage of quarters.

Vegans and the Incredible Shrinking Brain

You would think this is the stuff of Alice and Wonderland, where one pill makes you taller and the other makes you small.   But according to a new study out of the esteemed Oxford University claims that being a strict vegetarian can make your brain shrink.    That’s right, vegans are six times more likely to suffer brain shrinkage than, gasp, meat eaters.  Of course, the study also claimed that drinking more than 14 drinks a week will also make your brain shrink, as will smoking pot or being overweight.   Interesting study.

I have often wondered why people working in health food stores can act like morons.   Witness the one the other day who asked to eat half a chicken and salad if I would need a knife and fork.   “No, chopsticks,” I told her,somewhat sarcastically.  So she gave me chopsticks. Therefore, I would take the study further and posit that eating veggies also reduces greatly one’s sense of humor.   But that is my own individual perception.  But many will agree.  Maybe not the vegans, but all the others who derive their culinary pleasures by feasting on the flatulent, ozone tampering animal hordes that graze our depleted lands.   Think of how many times you have been reminded by your self-righteous friends how your eating habits are ruining the planet.

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I have to think of the online dating sites that specialize in vegan romantic prospects.   Like minded people thinking like minded thoughts, with likely shrinking brains.   No variety desired, not on these dating sites.  And sex with someone who devours those awful, flatulent, ozone destroying bests, well that most be unthinkable to those who register on a dating site.   Or maybe they are more practically minded, and just don’t want to bother cooking the food they really deplore.   I know that varying a menu to fit special needs is annoying at best.   Making two different meals, one for youself and one for your romantic partner has to be a major pain.   It can force you to the market for prepared foods.   It can drive you to drink.  Which can shrink your brain.

What a vicious cycle.  What a vicious web we spin.