I got flak about my “Bill Clinton is a sex addict” comment in a recent blog. Oh, wait, I didn’t actually say that out loud. I was only hinting. Okay, then, here you go: In my opinion, only a sex addict is incapable of turning down a blow job when the FATE OF THE FREE WORLD depends on him keeping his dick in his pants.
If that isn’t persisting in a compulsive behavior despite negative life consequences, I don’t know what is. When a man gambles away his kids’ tuition money, we have no trouble calling it addiction. How is this case different? Here is a man who almost lost the election in the first place due to the “zipper factor” (Gennifer Flowers, anyone?) yet still managed to get himself impeached as President of the United States because he just had to tap that intern. The stakes couldn’t have been higher, but he couldn’t stop himself. Just… couldn’t… not… do… it.
While we’re at it, let’s examine Ms. Lewinsky as the archetypal love addict. And is there a more combustible pairing than an untreated love addict and an untreated sex addict? Talk about a perfect storm. Here’s a gal who has herself so convinced that a quickie with her married boss is the Romance of the Ages that she preserves his semen drops as a lover’s keepsake. This despite the fact that — I think we mentioned this already — the FATE OF THE FREE FREAKING WORLD was at stake. But she couldn’t throw the damn dress away. Just… couldn’t… do… it.
If you doubt that love junkies and sex addicts are insane in our own special way, think about those space-wasting trinkets you are incapable of tossing away, those emails you still have not deleted, those voicemails you save month after month. Think about the secretary you just couldn’t couldn’t keep your paws off, or the student, or the next door neighbor. Then think about Bill and Monica and the Fate of the Free World.