Was I a Female Sex Addict?

Daniel McFadden

Photo: Getty Images

I'm wearing a sheer bra and lace panties, surrounded by half-naked bodies. I've already made out with at least three guys and one woman here. And I am 100 percent sober.

It was my fourth week of not drinking, and I found myself antsy, bored, and craving any sort of stimulation. Which is why I began hanging out with my friend Matt (name has been changed), a man with an active presence in underground New York City sex parties. Until a month prior, I hadn't known that world existed.

That was two years ago. Since then, I've been able to sort out my relationship with alcohol and sex, but during those first few tumultuous months of not drinking, I was struck by how much I craved any form of physical connection. When I found myself naked, with three or four strangers touching me at a time, part of me wondered what was happening in my brain that caused me to continually seek out these experiences. Why couldn't I just spend Saturday night on the couch watching a movie? And even though I was technically sober, the adrenaline rushing through my veins and my heart pounding in anticipation mimicked the feelings I'd experienced when I was elbowing my way to the bar, desperate for another drink to keep me from feeling antsy or bored or disconnected or normal. And of course, the next morning, I'd wake up feeling groggy and disoriented, unable to reconcile the images of what I'd done the night before with the side of me who just wanted to be in a functional relationship.

In The Atlantic, journalist Tori Rodriguez explores female sex addiction, finding a double standard when it comes to identifying and treating sex addicts. But what I find even more interesting is the crossover between sex and other addictions. Rodriguez believes that the double standard stems from the "typical" way men and women approach sex: That while it's normal for men to always want more, nice girls or normal girls, shouldn't crave sex—especially sex with anonymous partners. Maybe it was the fact I lived in New York City and had a liberal group of friends, but I never found a double standard in my own life. The friends I had loved sex, and never felt bad sharing details the morning after a one-night stand. I truly felt that going to sex parties was far healthier than getting blackout drunk.

Which is why I find it fascinating that addiction experts are addressing the crossover between sex and other addictions. Rodriguez explains that "sex addicts are hooked not just on the act itself, which often is actually a small part of the addiction, but all the aspects surrounding it—the planning, fantasizing, anticipation, excitement, relief, even the shame, guilt, and continual re-commitments to do better." In that explanation, I saw a bit of my own experience during those confusing months of sober sleeping around.

Photo: Getty Images

It could be just the way I'm wired. A 2008 University of Chicago study found that women who drink daily show more interest in sex than their non-drinking counterparts. At the time I took a break, I was drinking at least five nights a week, and at least two of those nights resulted in messy blackouts and lost possessions—I went through five iPhones in 2010! But what I found was that when I stopped drinking, I absolutely craved sex more than I ever have before, actually going as far as to seek it out in the form of semi-anonymous encounters at sex parties. During the night, these encounters made me feel like I was living. But the mornings after, I always had the vague understanding I was masking my essential self, that I was covering up for what really mattered.

According to Alex Katehakis, clinical director for the Center for Healthy Sex and the author of Erotic Intelligence, this is a normal response. While some people who quit drinking can't face the prospect of sex without alcohol, others become hypersexualized, using sex as a tool to manage anxiety or find validation. That's why traditional 12-step programs advise people to not date during the first year of sobriety, to avoid the cross-addiction to sex that researchers say is very common.

Which, of course, is easier said than done. Quitting drinking, whether it's for a lifetime or just for a month, is seen as virtuous. But let people know you're taking yourself off the market from dating and sex and you're seen as annoying abstemious. Why can't you flirt with that one guy? Why can't you just hook up with your ex?

Photo: Getty Images

And of course, not every woman who takes a break from drinking is an addict. I still don't know what my own relationship is to alcohol. After six months of cold-turkey not drinking, I began incorporating it back into my life. Now, two years later, while I do occasionally drink, I rarely have more than two glasses of wine. But recognizing that sex can fill the anxious, cagey, bored feeling that's usually quelled with a glass or two of wine can be helpful in interpreting how sex fits into your life. Or, at least, it would have helped me if I'd taken a moment—or maybe seen a therapist—to figure out what I was doing during the first few months I'd stopped drinking. Because I'd honestly thought I was fine. I even thought I'd been enjoying myself.

While I told my friends some details of my sex life, I tried to make it sound exciting and adventurous, to make it seem like the whole reason I was doing it was for a story, for some research into societal … something. I didn't want them to know how much I needed the stimulation, the excitement, and the ability to get away from the endless thoughts circling my brain. They accepted my rationalizations. After all, I had to know what I was doing. I was sober in every situation. It was only when I actually sat down and talked about what was going on underneath the anticipation and the desire that I could find the depression and anxiety.

When I look back, I see that during that time, I still felt as out-of-control as I had during a shot-filled evening. I was aware of how close I was to an edge, that each risk was turning me into a person I wanted to be. It wasn't that having sex with strangers was wrong, only that my reasons weren't as empowering as I made them out to be.

But I couldn't have admitted that. The phrase "sex addict" sounds pervy at best, criminal at worst. And so I absolutely think that shining a light—and removing the stigma—on how the addiction affects women will be able to help not only self-identified addicts, but also women like me. Because I do love sex. But now, trite as it may sound, I know that I only want to have the type of sex that'll let me love myself the next morning.

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