Let’s talk about sex

Do you want to talk about sex this week?

It’s a funny question. One side of me wants to revel in it. It seems everywhere I look, there’s an endorsement for sex. It’s the most successful method for getting someone’s attention. Still, I barely resent it when my mind is momentarily distracted by the images on billboards, T-shirts or TV shows—it’s an instant vacation from the mundane. Sex is ubiquitous. Sex is friendly. It was dangerous when I was young, but what fun thing couldn’t you say that about? But then, I don’t have a sex addiction.

But what if I were an addict? Sex is one of the most basic parts of who we are. If it’s a little problem, then it’s a huge problem. I’ve got some sympathy for addicts. I’ve been a tobacco junkie since I was a kid. It’s said tobacco is one of the hardest compulsions to break because it’s available whenever a moment of weakness arises—like when a couple of cocktails overcome the carefully constructed inhibitions.

Tobacco is many places, but it’s not everywhere. It’s not in my car when I drive down Center Street. Sex is there. It’s on the casino signs; it’s for sale on the sidewalks; it’s on the signs on top of cabs. When I get to work, it’s in my inbox. What if I couldn’t stop my compulsive behavior every time my sex switch got toggled?

Like I said, I sympathize with addicts. I’ll tell you something else. Some of the people who are reading these words right now have a problem. They spend too much time in the topless joints, brothels and on Internet porn sites. It’s affecting their jobs, their families and their futures. I hope that if Miranda’s cover story does anything, it’ll let those people know there’s help, and it will encourage them to seek it.