The Newlin's, Marcie & Mark Pt. 20

She smiled at him and caressed his cheek. "Amazing, huh?"

"Marcie, I know you're smart enough to have researched this already. What have you found?"

She laughed and said, "It's not funny, but I have to laugh because I'm kind of like a guy with throat cancer who can't stop smoking. I live for my next fuck, Mark, I really do. Now as to what it is and what can be done about it ... well there's a controversy as to whether it should be termed a mental healthcare problem or require a more shall we say, clinical diagnosis. The current term for what I think I have is Hypersexuality, which is a suddenly increased libido. However, the medical profession is undecided on how its cause, but with me it seems like its compulsive.

"I haven't suffered any brain damage, so I've eliminated the frontal lobe as fucking up my libido. Self-prognosis, I know—I know, but people with that also tend toward aggressive behavior, and I'm not anywhere near that type. Sooo, I looked into some other possibilities such as premenstrual changes and the exposure to virilising hormones in childhood or in utero in The Journal of Forensic Psychiatry."

"Have you tried the group that follows the basics of Alcoholics Anonymous?"

"Not yet, but I'm looking into it. I would have jumped right in, but I heard a few things that gave me pause."

"What exactly?" Mark felt obligated to ask.

"The obvious reason being temptation. I mean, the room would be full of people like me, for crying out loud!"

"So you look at it as kind of out of the frying pan into the fire?"

"Exactly! More to the point, I've looked into AA's rules and there's a lot about depending on God for help, like asking Him to forgive ... um, I think they say, shortcomings. I'm not certain. Then you make a list of everyone you harmed. Jesus, Mark, who the fuck have I harmed? Beside myself, I mean? And---and find them and make amends to them. I don't know most of them. I certainly couldn't call them on the phone, or go to their house. Even if I could, what kind of damage would I cause to them by doing it?"

"Yeah, I can see there are certain problems there."

"And---and you know, everyone going to Alcoholics Anonymous doesn't get cured. They have relapses. Another problem I'm faced with is that I've begun to question my sanity. What I mean is that other than my music---playing and holding a job so I can play--all I think about is my next relationship. I mean, I really like you. I really, really do! But how long will you continue to put up with me fucking anything that moves and then coming back to you looking for more of the same?"

Mark looked at her for a long time before saying softly, "I don't know. I have no way of knowing how I'll react after this conversation. I can tell you that I do like you very much. I can---no, I will do my utmost to help you get through this---this sickness. But I can't guarantee you a thing beyond that simply because I don't know myself that well. But I will try, Marcie. I can promise you that."

"Marcie?"

"Mmmm?"

"Have you tried therapy? A therapist might offer a different approach to your problems."

"I have. Yes I agree, I've always been a worrier, so anxiety might be the culprit, or it's possible I'm depressed. My current therapist insists that I'm not addicted to sex, but have a very healthy aptitude for it. As we move forward we'll examine my history looking for other possibilities as well. For example I've given Sex Addicts Anon a try. I attended 20 meetings in 10 days, sometimes imagining myself crashing the car off the pavement of the street or highway leading to my meetings. It helped that most of the men in attendance were gay, so no attractions formed from the meetings. Little by little, I made some small gains, crying into the phone with friends, the obsession somehow miraculously lifting once I'd talked about the real emotion driving it from beneath. One minute at a time, one day at a time, you know? That was my bottom line. I tried not listening to romantic songs, turning the station whenever a song of undying love began. But in my line of work there was no avoiding it. I'd get requests for romantic tunes every night. I needed the paycheck; I had to play them and to do that I had to listen to them, didn't I?"

"And there was another problem. I'm bisexual; mmmm, yeah."

She glanced up at Mark to see his reaction to her words, but saw that while he was listening intently he offered no sign of what he was thinking. And so she continued.

"Anyway I've reached the point where I can ease back on the sexual throttle for a week, maybe two before that itch returns. I scratch it as best I can and hope that another interlude of peace will follow. I was in one of them when we met one another, and here we are, Mark," she shrugged and laughed. "Back at the itching post."

To be continued