Strung Out on Dick

“Please, just one more hit…”

Sweet Jesus, Help us Laydeez who get strung out on dick. It’s never pretty, is it. We start off all cool and independent, like Kate Hudson in {insert lame rom-com here.} Then we meet some dude, and fall instantly in lust. We yammer on and on to anyone who’ll listen how GORGEOUS, how AMAZING, how COOL, how SENSITIVE, how INTELLECTUAL he is, blah blah blah. Then, when all concerned are thoroughly sick of us, we graciously disappear off the radar, for days…then weeks…sometimes months. We are officially MIA.

Friends start sending increasingly urgent texts (“Damn it, Ariel, it’s my WEDDING!!! Where the hell are you?!?”), pets are neglected and usually develop UTI’s (as do we,) families are concerned, co-workers are frustrated with our lack of work ethic, not to mention that we’ve changed the start of the work day to 10:17AM…And the last time we did laundry or cleaned the apartment or did ANYTHING that didn’t resemble a twig and berries was a thousand years ago. One hit off that sweet pipe and that was it, cancel all plans, turn off the phone, and get off the grid, you’re officially gone.

Now, I can only speak for myself, but when I was strung out on dick, it was to, sadly, “a” dick. And I knew it. Just like y’all know heroin is bad, bad, bad…but it’s too hard to “just say no.” I don’t know if it was Oxytocin or Oxycontin flowing through my veins when he stuck his needle in, but damn if it didn’t feel gooooooood. As you all thoughtfully kept telling me, this guy was no good for me. But I just couldn’t quit him. He would treat me like absolute dog shit, and when I would scream and tell him to GTF out or even better, make a grand exit in my platforms and pleather pants (yeah…don’t ask), he would grab me, throw me down on the bed/couch/barca-lounger and give me the most incredible fucking until my eyes crossed into oblivion. And I was simply silly putty afterwards. Yep, throw me against a wall and I’d stick…

He’d flirt shamelessly with other women in front of me, get girl’s numbers and rub it in my face, you name it. And I’d storm off, only to wait outside the bar to see if he followed. And of course he would, with insincere apologies galore and just the trace of those fucking dimples and begging me, begging! to take him back. He didn’t mean it, he was just playing, didn’t I know him by now? Don’t I know that it’s just a game, he’s never, ever serious about those other bitches, it’s just me, only me, it will always be me!

Ugggh, THAT shit was like meth – gave me that incredible high in an instant, only to crash and burn with a twisted kind of horror when I realized in the cold light of day, alone, that it’s not me, it’ll never be just me, he could give two flying fucks about me. But still…maybe…get back up on that pogo stick, chase that high.

The worse the relationship is, the more insane, intense, incredible, mind-blowingly-blowing the sex is. Perhaps because that’s the only place you can check out and pretend it’s love. Physical love, yeah, but hey – you take what you can get. So everything is HEIGHTENED, everything is STIMULATED – fuck “E”, your brain chemicals and pituitary gland will bring all the party supplies you need. When he fucked me I went to a different planet. Planet Happiness. Planet Leave-All-Your-Troubles-At-The-Door, it’s all gonna be A-OK. My body was so primed and ready I began to have orgasms while he was parking the car. Well almost. But I did come almost immediately (with no clitoral stimulation), a neat trick my body has sadly failed to replicate since.

Man, this man had me wrapped around his…dick. I could not escape. I was falling deeper and deeper. And I was getting more and more miserable. Because my self esteem was also wrapped around that dick. And every time he blew me off or criticized me or fucked with my head, my ego would take another direct hit. I was undesirable, I was ugly, I was unlovable, until he returned and made it all better.

How did I get off the sauce? It took a lot of fucking pain, which is a great motivator. I finally chose me. I got off the insanity ride, had some really good friends who let me crash with them for a while, deleted all contact information and took myself off of HIS grid. And slowly, I got back to normal.

Have I had the same amazing, insane, intense, bone-calcifying sex since?

 

 

 

 

No.

 

 

 

*Sigh*

3 Comments

  1. Nick, mostly

    October 10, 2012 at 4:14 pm

    Dick will make you slap somebody.

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