HAVEN'T WE ALL BEEN OLIVIA POPE OR MARY JANE PAUL?
- Elle Nicole
- Sep 16, 2014
- 4 min read
The popularity of salacious characters like Scandal's Olivia Pope and Being Mary Jane's Mary Jane Paul has drawn some recent criticism about the relegation of women to the label of "mistress" or "side piece." This criticism is, of course, that women should hold themselves to higher standards and strive to be a wife or his one and only. But the truth is good sex is almost impossible to refuse illicit or not. In fact, the adrenaline rush that we experience when engaging in an illicit affair can make that good sex damn nearly addictive. If you watched Being Mary Jane, one of the episodes actually deals with addiction. And, yes, you can be addicted to a person. So, to all the naysayers, have a little compassion, because sex, just like cocaine, isn't so easy to give up when it feels so good.
Here's my personal story about my own addiction. Enjoy.
When It Feels So Good
Dictionary.com defines the word “addiction” as a compulsive physiological and psychological need for a habit-forming substance. Substance is defined as that which has mass and occupies space; matter, a material of a particular kind or constitution. I define addiction as sex so mind blowing that when you see that guy, who had you climbing the walls, three months later, you immediately grab him and pull him into the nearest restaurant bathroom, just to get a taste (oh, my bad, maybe that’s just me). Good sex, so obscure that we’ll do just about anything to get it, lose a best friend, cheat on a spouse, almost lose your dignity and your job (oh, again, just me). I never understood what was so good about sex. It was just something I did when my boyfriend rolled his fat, lazy ass to my side of the bed. It usually lasted three minutes, just enough time before I began to fall asleep. Every now and then he would give an extra hump or two, just to give it that good old American try. Then he would roll back over and begin that husky- man snore (you know the one).
Then there was that day, the day I met The One, the one who laid it on me so good my toes curl at the mere thought. After the first time, it was like I was seeing the world in 3-D for the first time in my life. I didn’t have that unexplainable attitude that always caused my neck the twist and turn in various directions at the mere sight of a busted man. Life, all of a sudden, was so happy and carefree. I felt like I was walking on air. That was of course until he didn’t call me for a week. He didn’t call and I felt like my world came crashing down, like I couldn’t breathe and I was dying for a hit. Just to feel his touch and his tongue was all I could think of. Everything made me nervous, uptight and most of all paranoid. When ever the phone rang I immediately became irritated when it wasn’t him. He was in my dreams, in my thoughts and in my every waking movement. It was insanity at its best. This, my friends, is what we call an addiction, a sexual one.
We all want to have that back scratching, hair sweating, breathless, can feel it down in your soul type sex, but when it comes to the point where you would damn near break the law to get it, it’s time for rehab. Watch yourself, you may laugh at your nearest corner crackhead, but you could be sitting right next to her, itching and scratching.
Since I consider myself a certified expert in this matter, I have come up with 10 tell-tale signs that are clear addict identifiers.
Have you ever found yourself curled up in the fetal position with a pillow between your legs, biting your nails in the middle of the night? You’re an addict.
Ever had the thought, “I can live off sex, who needs food, shelter and clothing?” Face it you’re sprung, whipped and beaten; get up off of your knees and seek help.
Ever looked up and realized it’s been a whole 24 hours and you haven’t from them, and then your leg immediately starts to go into convulsions? You know what you are.
Ever been on a date with one person and then The One calls, and for some apparent reason you just came down with a cold? Yeah right, lying is the first sign.
Ever find yourself trying to “remix” the clothes you wore to work the day before, because you don’t have time to make it home to get dressed for work? I don’t even need to repeat myself.
Ever driven 30 minutes in the pouring rain across town even though the weatherman said the words “tornado watch”? Shame.
Ever received death threats from your friends because they haven’t heard from you in weeks? Good luck with that excuse.
Ever been in a restaurant, and although it goes against all those little tidbits mama taught you, you make a break for the nearest bathroom stall? Oh come on, I know it’s not just me.
Ever looked at the clock right before the end of the day and swear it’s been 4:59 p.m. for the last 30 minutes? Yeah, me too. What time is it?
Ever tried to listen to The One say something to you, but can’t quite understand what they’re saying and could really care less, because you’ve got something better in mind? Pack your things you’re off to rehab.
These are sound and valid signs (trust me, I’m a professional), so if you find yourself dropping everything when he or she calls do one thing for me: Stop, turn and walk to the nearest mirror, then say the words “and I thought Lindsay Lohan had it bad.”
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