The Blowfish Blog

Are You a Sex Addict (Part 1)?

Are you a sex addict?

Probably.

I seem to be.

Via Dr. Marty Klein’s excellent Sexual Intelligence blog comes news of this Sexual Addiction Screening Test from SexHelp.com, a site designed “to help those affected by sexual addiction and compulsivity.” The site was created by Dr. Patrick Carnes: inventor of the term “sex addiction,” founder and designer of multiple treatment programs for sex addiction, and author of several books on sex addiction.

According to Dr. Klein, Dr. Carnes admits he has no training in human sexuality. But let’s not focus on that just now.

Because according to this test, I have a problem.

Which is a bit odd. My life is good; my sex life is great. Things in my life are stable and flourishing, and sex is a happy part of that.

So I don’t actually think I have a problem.

I think this test has a problem.

I think this test has several problems. I think this test represents an extremely narrow, rigid view of what can constitute a happy sex life. It pathologizes any kind of sex that’s unconventional. It pathologizes any kind of sex that other people are shocked or upset by — regardless of whether they have any right to be, or whether their sexual sensibilities are reasonable. And it pathologizes anyone who makes sex a high priority in their life.

And I think this is the problem with the way sex addiction commonly gets treated. In fact, I think it’s the problem with the whole “sex addiction” theory in the first place. I don’t deny that some people behave compulsively around sex, self-destructively and destructively of others. I’d be an idiot to deny that. I just don’t think “addiction” is the right word — or the right concept — for that problem.

And I think this shows up in this test: and in the way that unconventional sex, sex that defies conservative sexual mores, or making sex a high priority in one’s life, are all seen as signs of sex addiction.

But maybe I’m in denial. Maybe I’m one of those addicts who can’t admit they’re an addict. Let’s take a look at the test, and at all the questions I answered “Yes” to . . . and let’s see.

Do you often find yourself preoccupied with sexual thoughts?

You betcha.

Sexual thoughts are how I keep myself entertained during the duller parts of my life. On the bus; waiting in line at the grocery store; when I’m doing the more mechanical parts of my job that don’t really require thought . . . I think about sex. Sex is important to me, and I think about it a lot.

Pathologizing people for whom sex is a high priority? Check.

Do you feel that your sexual behavior is not normal?

Normal by whose standards?

Lots of what I do sexually isn’t done by the majority of people on this planet. Or even in San Francisco. Sadomasochism; writing porn; even bisexuality: none of this is technically normal. It isn’t what most people do.

But why should normality be a measure of sexual health? If someone is aroused by, say, the sight of bald women in Spock ears and combat boots — an abnormal sexual desire — why is that inherently less healthy than the more normal arousal by the sight of blonde women in high heels and lingerie?

Pathologizing unconventional sex? Check. Pretty much your dictionary definition of it.

Has your sexual behavior ever created problems for you and your family?

For me? Not so much. Unless you count the usual run of bad relationships and dumb decisions. Otherwise known as “youth.”

But for my family? Sure. When I was a teenager, my mother hated the fact that I was having sex at all. And many members of my family still have problems with the fact that I write porn.

And I’m one of the lucky ones. My family is both progressive and non-religious. If you come from a family that’s conservative about sex — and especially if you come from a deeply religious family with strict sexual taboos — then you might have to answer “Yes” to this question just for being gay, or using birth control, or having sex before marriage.

Pathologizing sex that shocks or upsets other people, regardless of whether they have a right to be? Check.

Has anyone been hurt emotionally because of your sexual behavior?

Probably. See above, re: family.

And I’ve had sexual differences with partners that they weren’t happy with. There was my boyfriend in college, for instance, who unilaterally instigated a non-monogamous arrangement — and acted on it frequently — but got deeply hurt when I wanted to have sex with a friend of his. And there were women I dated in my “casual sex” days, who I told ahead of time that I wasn’t looking for a relationship but who got hurt anyway when they realized that I meant it.

Pathologizing sex that shocks or upsets other people, regardless of whether they have a right to be? Check.

Are any of your sexual activities against the law?

In what state? And in what country?

This is a textbook example of “pathologizing unconventional sex.” In Texas, owning more than five dildos is against the law. SM porn is illegal in Canada. Until recently, gay sex was against the law in many states in the U.S . . .. and if I’m not mistaken, in many states adultery still is. And in countries around the world, both gay and extra-marital sex are not only illegal, but punishable by death.

So yes. Some of my sexual activities are against the law — or they would be, if I didn’t live in California.

Do we really want to use the laws about sex as guideposts for sexual health?

Pathologizing unconventional sex? Check.

Do you hide some of your sexual behaviors from others?

Honestly? I do this less than almost anyone I know. But yes: strange as it may seem to people who read my blog, I have sexual practices that I keep private. And no, I’m not going to tell you what they are. They’re private.

I truly don’t know what category to put this in. On what planet is having a private sex life that you don’t talk to people about considered a sign of sex addiction? This is in a category all its own: the “completely wacky, flatly stupid” category.

Has sex (or romantic fantasies) been a way for you to escape your problems?

Well, if you consider “boredom” a problem, then yes. See above, re: using sex fantasies to kill time.

More seriously: Sure. There have been times when I’ve been sad or upset, and I’ve had sex (or masturbated) to help me feel better. I’ve done it to feel loved and connected; to remind myself of the possibility of joy in sad times; even just to relax when I’m stressed and can’t sleep.

And this is bad because . . . ?

Pathologizing people for whom sex is a high priority? Check.

Have you purchased services online for erotic purposes (sites for dating, pornography, fantasy and friend finder)?

Sure. I live in the 21st century. If I’m going to buy porn or answer personal ads, I’m going to do it online.

In other words, here’s what this question really is asking: Have you ever bought porn, or placed or answered personal ads?

Sure.

And again, this is bad because . . . ?

Half my friends have played the personals at one point or another. I just went to a wedding last month of a couple who met through the personals. Online personals, even.

More about porn in a moment.

Pathologizing sex that shocks or upsets other people, regardless of whether they have a right to be? Check.

Have people in my life been upset about my sexual activities online?

Yes. There are members of my family who aren’t thrilled about the fact that I blog about sex.

Pathologizing sex that shocks or upsets other people, regardless of whether they have a right to be? Check.

Have you subscribed to or regularly purchased or rented sexually explicit materials (magazines, videos, books or online pornography)?

Yes. I buy porn on a somewhat regular basis. I probably wouldn’t buy it as much if I weren’t a porn critic . . . but then, I’m a porn critic largely because I like porn.

So what we have here is the assumption that the regular use of porn is inherently unhealthy. No question about whether your porn use is interfering with your life; no question about whether you’re spending more on porn than you can afford, or whether it’s giving you unrealistic expectations of your sex partners. If you like porn and enjoy it on a regular basis — no matter how well you incorporate it into a happy sex life — that’s a sign that you’re a sex addict.

Pathologizing people for whom sex is a high priority? Pathologizing sex that shocks or upsets other people, regardless of whether they have a right to be? Check, and check again.

Have you engaged prostitutes and escorts to satisfy your sexual needs?

Technically, no. She was a professional submissive, not a prostitute. But I’m going to answer in the spirit of the question, not the letter; and I’m going to answer, “Yes.”

And I’d do it again if I could afford it. (I’ve written about the experience, in fact; the essay will appear in the upcoming “Best Sex Writing 2008″ anthology.)

And as I’ve written before in this blog, I don’t consider the mere fact of hiring sex workers to be unhealthy. I know it’s scorned and condemned by our culture; but unless hiring sex workers is getting in the way of your pursuit of romantic relationships (that is, assuming you want a romantic relationship), or unless you’re spending more on sex workers than you can afford, I don’t see why this is automatically a sign that you have a problem. In fact, I think it can be a sign of a very healthy attitude towards sex: it shows the ability to know what you want, and to openly and unashamedly seek it out from someone who’s willing to give it to you.

We’ve hit the trifecta here, folks. Pathologizing unconventional sex? Pathologizing people who make sex a high priority? Pathologizing sex that shocks or upsets other people, regardless of whether they have a right to be? Check, double check, and triple check.

(This is a two-part piece. You can find part 2 here.)

Greta Christina, copyright © 2007. Be sure to check out Greta’s blog.

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This entry was posted on Thursday, 6 December 2007 at 12:00 am and is filed under Culture. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.