I guess that DSM presentation just *wasn't enough* for me earlier this term, because I've gone off and signed up to give another presentation to my class on sex. This time, my colleagues in Treatment Planning will get an earful about how to treat sex addiction.
Upon hearing me discuss with Single Gay Female the fact that I had been waffling between Internet addiction and sex addiction -- and wondering if I could specifically address Internet sex addiction -- our teacher, Mr. Lightfoot, asked me, "Are you going to be the one who gets the reputation for choosing the sticky topics?"
I suppose so. I don't think sex gets talked about enough, I replied.
"Well," Lightfoot told me, "you've picked a good one. It's tricky because sexual addiction isn't a classification in the DSM, and there haven't been a lot of studies done about it. It's a big but generally invisible problem."
I'd think it would be hard to get people to admit to it.
"Researchers have a way of getting the information," he said. "People will tell you a lot of stuff when they know it's anonymous. It's a really big problem. .... Especially," he added, "among women in residential treatment programs. It's very dangerous."
Now *that* got my attention. Because my stereotyped thoughts about who's a sex addict and what they're doing simply did not include women in residential treatment programs. ... I'm already glad I chose the topic; I love it when my notions are disabused.
On a personal note about sex, there is now seered in my brain the most frightening image of my future bedroom, thanks to decorating suggestions from Dr. M. When I told her I was thinking of getting a sleigh bed, she proprosed it be the *only* piece of furniture in my room, that the room be painted a deep ruby red, that the bed be fitted with satiny red sheets and that there be a spotlight over the bed.
Obviously, she's thinking there must be some way to get old UCM's sex life up and roaring -- and that doing so will require gimmicks. (I hope that's not the case. *sigh*)
But upon hearing her suggestion (or her merciless teasing, depending on how I look at it) I was thinking, You forgot to mention the mirrors. And the madam coming to knock on the door to tell my tricks their time is up....
'Cause you know, sweet little me was thinking of decking out my bed with some nice floral print from April Cornell. heh.
Or something illustrating The Preludes and the oral pleasures of the Kama Sutra, which every woman should get to enjoy whether her lovers are men or women. A woman's body is something that deserves great attention and many delights. ... But I digress.
Perhaps the red sheets will be fine. But I rather think a spotlight unnecessary. And probably unflattering, as well.
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OK, Dr. M just STOLE that from me, because that is almost exactly how my bedroom was decorated. Well, GIANT sleigh bed was the only piece of furniture, and I had burgundy drapes. Snow white sheets though. Mmmm.
Oh, and no spotlight DAMMIT.
Good luck. ;-)
Well, she does speak highly of her wife, so that makes sense.
And she's also said that original lines almost never come out of her mouth. (That's mainly attributed to a movie fetish, though.)
She was clearly improvising with the red sheets. So we can give her a *little* credit. ... Still, though, the spotlight pretty much kills the deal. It would cast bad shadows on the geography of my body.
Yeah, everybody knows that one should be lit from BENEATH with candlelight and fireflies.
Fireflies ... What a nice image.
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