
Back in 2014 when I was 26, any night was date night because I didn’t need time to primp and prepare.
I didn’t care what the person thought of me. I was after sex. I was living in Washington, D.C., at the time, and there was definitely a hook-up culture to support my habit.
Mondays were nice for dates because they broke up the boredom of the first day back to work. What better way to blast through a scary inbox than thoughts of drinks with someone new? I liked to initiate dates and coo to the stranger on Match.com that he was the reason it’d be worth getting up on a Monday. It wasn’t true, but they loved hearing it.
Tuesdays were good for casual hookups, too. Since I would usually reserve Mondays for my rest days from the gym, I still yearned for physical release. If I hadn’t already gone out on a date Monday (although let’s face it, I’ve done back-to-back dates before, sometimes on the same night), I’d go out under the guise of Tuesday Brewsday. Most men love beer, not to mention a woman who drinks it.
Wednesdays were perfect for going out with someone I met on Saturday without looking too desperate. Unless of course, I had already slept with him that past weekend.
Thursdays were my favorite: great bar specials and only one more day to the weekend (with the next workday to keep me in check). We’d talk about weekend plans, get silly drunk before 9 PM, have sex, and then I’d take the last train home.
I could keep going, but I’d rather not.
Before I realized I had a sexual addiction, I never had an off-season. One time a friend said she wanted to set me up with a friend of hers, but stated that I was in the major leagues and her friend was junior varsity. Not in terms of looks, but just intensity. My friend had only a vague idea of my number of partners, and while it’s not hall-of-fame worthy, it was increasing too quickly. (I think it’s now around 60.)
Click to read more.....'I'm A Sex Addict—Here's What Finally Made Me Get Help'
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