The Confusion of a Porn Addict (Guest Blog by Paul Porter)

 
I don't know whether I'm more disappointed because she can never trust me...or, if I'm disappointed because I can never trust myself.
 

What is it about my psyche that allows me to segue from reading about "Girls Like Us" on Amazon.com to opening my newest e-mail from Adult Video Universe - checking out the latest porn releases. Can you say "cognitive dissonance"? Am I unusual...unique...or am I dead ordinary? I suspect the latter. Is it because I'm a man? Or a human being? Or alive?
 

I stop and contemplate my thumbnails. The red polish with flowers of white and stems of green painted on them. Courtesy of the singularly lovely Sophia (pronounced so-PHIA), or just Phia to her closest confidants. And toes to match. I tell some who ask that there was a lot of rum involved, as if that explained the incongruity of a sixty-year-old man walking around with painted nails. Actually, in Hawaii, that's not so incongruous - but it still elicits comment.

The real reason I have painted nails is because my new girlfriend's grand daughter was here for a visit. And I'm so eager for acceptance, I'll do anything to try and make people like me.

My inner voice groans...'isn't that pathetic? what...you trying to get sympathy? pity?'

The budding relationship with Sophia is a gift. My girlfriend's son and family have welcomed and accepted me. And I can use the closeness with Sophia as a substitute for the closeness I'm missing with my own grand daughter, whose mother is still angry with me for divorcing HER mother. A divorce that happened because of my cognitive dissonance.

I wanted to be the pillar of our marriage, the pier that supported everything about our lives. When we moved to Hawaii and started setting up a new life, the password I chose was PILLAR. When I opened my new bank account, I was a pillar. When I set up a new internet connection, I was pillar. When I bought stuff on Amazon.com, I was pillar. When I found a roof over our heads, I was a pillar. When I bought a car to drive (with no credit), I was a pillar. When I found a job in my new location, I was a pillar. When I worked myself ragged - till I could no longer stand - I was a pillar. 

But I grew tired of holding everything up. I wanted to be the loving father, and doting grandfather; but was willing to give all that up for a good romp in the hay with a hot 20-yr-old blond, or a lively 30-yr-old brunette, or a sultry 40-yr-old redhead, or a 50-yr-old exotic Oriental. Mid-life crisis? Don't think so. I had THAT in my late 30's. And again in my mid 40's. Never bought a red Lamborghini. Nor even a red Miata. Never took a year off to 'find myself'. Didn't hitch hike around Europe. Didn't sail the Caribbean. Didn't meditate in Tibet. I WANTED to do those things. DREAMED of doing those things.

With each passing decade, my dreams got bigger, more insistent. I adopted Lucille Ball's mantra as my own: "I'd rather regret the things I have done than the things that I haven't." 

And then my "pillar" persona would assert itself. Gotta pay the mortgage. Gotta put my children through college. Gotta keep the business going. The employees need the job.

The community needs the business. Didn't matter what I needed. Didn't matter what I wanted. There was always something, or someone, whose needs were more important than mine.

Can you say subjugated, sublimated, subsumed, consumed?

However, this pillar was set not on bedrock, but on shifting grains of sand. In Kansas, those grains scattered in the wind. In Hawaii, they vanished with the waves. It's a frightening thing to lose your bearings. To slip from your mooring. To be twisting in the wind, like a kite with no tail at the end of its tether. 

At first, it's thrilling to not have any complications, any responsibilities. No ramifications. No guilt exacted. No dues extracted.

And then. And then. What's to become of me? What do I want? What can I have? Am I going to bang aimlessly against all that I bump into? Come crashing down with a breath-taking swoosh?

Or, am I going to declare, "Well...THAT was fun! But I'm all grown up, now.

Bring on the responsibility! I'm ready to be a pier without peer.

Source: googleimages.com

Ariel's Note: Paul is "a peripatetic pilgrim...eclectic, didactic, but not pedantic...a walking contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction. He began his journey on a dairy farm in Kansas, and now rests his head in Pele's fiery bosom on the Big Island of Hawaii. He's always looking forward to tomorrow and the new things tomorrow will bring."

- Ariel Murphy