I wonder: is it really so bad to be a sex addict? I mean, sure, it gets in the way of some essential things like, say, work or family, but you’ll never have to utter those despairing words “It’s been three months.” Having such an “affliction” (rhymes with “addiction” but sounds less technical, I think) will certainly lead to some always-sought-after cred with your male friends (that goes for both guys and girls).
I certainly wish (occasionally) that I had such an issue (is there a term for the total opposite of sex addiction?). Perhaps my (only momentary, of course) dopamine binge would actually help my relationships. Now there’s a thought. But, no, to add such a spell to my already filling catalog would be too much. Besides, I prefer things with greater emotional and spiritual value, things with substance, depth, relativity. I’ll simply revel in my slightly-less-than-normality and continue to read of other peoples’ pleasure ultimately leading to displeasure and, occasionally, rehab (see! I save myself some money, also). Yea, I guess being (somewhere around) normal isn’t so bad.
An aside question: I wonder what is more difficult to combat, having too much sex or having too little sex?