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Chapter Four

Christian and I had been together almost three years when I discovered that my affliction had a name. That I wasn't the only one with these urges, these needs.

I was in a book store, looking to pick up some pretty little twink and let him blow me in the restroom, when I saw the answer to so many of my questions sitting on the shelf in front of me, screaming for me to open it up and find out the answers.

The book's title was “Sexual Addiction.” That was all; but it said everything. I picked it up and walked over to a chair. I spent the next four hours reading about me, about my life. My emotions swung from one end of the spectrum to the other. I felt relief that I wasn't alone and that this addiction could be kicked. I felt shame and embarrassment that this author could know so much about my life. I felt anger that I had not been told of this before, that I had been battling this on my own, thinking I was the only one, And finally I felt fear of what this really meant.

The book said I must tell my partner, that he must be involved in my recovery, but I knew better than that. I knew that this was something I had to do on my own.

It also gave me some good advice: to find a therapist and a support group.

The chapter on possible causes was a real eye opener. It seems my absent father and being raped by my pervert uncle were probably what set me on the track to have an ‘Impulse Control Disorder.’ My over indulgence in drugs and alcohol certainly didn’t help.

The book also offered hope, that with therapy and behavioral modifications, I could overcome this; I could become the person Christian saw when he looked at me.

I left the bookstore, forgetting all about finding a trick. I didn’t buy the book either, I mean, how would I explain it if Christian saw it? I went home and got online finding a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting not all that far from my office.

I jotted down the address, time, and phone number, I would have to come up with a good story to explain my disappearance to Christian. The meetings were held weekly, starting the next evening. There were other places that held meetings on different nights, so there was a meeting somewhere almost every day of the week. I figured going would be the first step; from there I could find a therapist and learn how to not be…. well, a sex addict.

But the next evening I chickened out. I told Christian I had a client in from out of town and that I would need to take my guest out to dinner. I knew I would have to come up with something better if I was going to attend the weekly meetings but I would worry about that later.

But when it came time to go, I couldn’t go through with it. I drove to where the meeting was to be held. I sat in my car and watched the people walk in, greeting each other as old friends; but I couldn’t get out of the car.

Maybe next week. Instead I stopped by a dance club and got my dick sucked in the backroom before going home.

The following day I got brave enough to call the phone number listed online.

“This is Randy, how can I help you?” a voice said after the first ring.

“Um, ah…” I didn’t know what to say, how to start.

“Just start by telling me your first name.” Randy had obviously been through this before.

“Dylan, my name is Dylan.”

“Nice to meet you, Dylan,” Randy said. He had a nice voice, soothing. “Do you think you might be a sex addict?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said.

“How ‘bout we meet somewhere for coffee and talk? Would you be willing to do that?”

“Yeah,” I felt myself relaxing, “that sounds good.” I was starting to feel better about this; maybe I had made the right choice for once in my life. We agreed to meet at a little diner for lunch.

I ended up pouring my heart out to this complete stranger while my food sat untouched in front of me. I guess it was the first time I had spoken out loud about my problem, and to be able to finally share it with someone who understood was such a release. We sat there for almost two hours while he listened and reassured me.

As we were leaving he handed me a card, “This is my personal cell number. Call me any time, day or night.”

I had to smile, I think this was the first time I ever had a guy say those words and not mean for sex. “Thanks, I will.”

“And, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night for the meeting.”

I froze. “I didn’t think you guys met again until next week.”

“There are meetings all over town. We’ll go to the one on Second and Harley tomorrow. I would recommend you try to attend a meeting as often as possible at first; everyday even. It will help.”

“Yeah? Okay.” My mind was racing, it might prove to be harder to hide this from Christian, then it was to hide my tricks.

“You know, you should bring your partner, too.” He must have read my mind.

I felt the blood drain from my face. “No, he doesn’t know. I don’t… I can’t… this doesn’t involve him.”

“He’s your partner, of course it involves him.”

“I can’t do that to him.” I was near panic.

Randy eyed me, “We can talk more about that later. Is it okay for me to call you?”

“Yeah, um, sure,” I stammered, trying in my mind to explain Randy to Christian.

“Listen, one step at a time, okay? If you’re not ready to tell your partner yet, then wait. But let’s get you going to a meeting. Would it work better if I picked you up tomorrow at your office instead of your house?”

I nodded, thankful that he understood. “Yeah, let’s do that.” I gave him the info and we agreed that he would pick me up the next evening at six

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