slowing it down...

I walked around Walmart in a daze, trying to think of the few critical items I would be needing.  Shower shoes were an absolute necessity.  Mersa thrives in environments like the one I was headed to. I had managed to keep the booze from killing me for thirty five years; damned if I would get cut down by the creeping crud.  Unfortunately, it was October, and the shoe section was dominated by cheap boots and warm fuzzy slippers.  I had almost given up when, on my third pass, I spied a few dusty pairs of Jersey Shore slaps decked out in pink hyacinth blossoms on an end cap, size twelve, reduced to two dollars.  I tossed a pair in the cart, grabbed a few toiletries as well as a pair of grey sweatpants.  As I stood there pondering my next move, my girl came up behind me and put her arms around my waist.  'You lost a little weight', she said.  Immediately, I became aroused, and once again, the wheels began to turn.

There's a funny thing that happens during detox, as any addict or alcoholic can relate to.  When drinking, you introduce certain chemicals into your body that make you feel good.  Really good.  These endorphins, oxytocin, dopamine, or seratonin, or whatever, flood your system to the point where your brain cannot absorb them all.  So, as not to waste these delicious compounds, the brain brilliantly creates new receptor sites, and all is well.  Until demon sobriety sets in.  Then, the empty receptors sit there screaming helplessly for satisfaction, but alas, there is no relief in sight.  And that's where masturbation fills the void.  Constant, frantic unrelenting masturbation.  I'm telling you, it is downright disturbing.  This can last for a week or two and believe me, it is a huge relief when the urge finally subsides, when some kind of chemical balance returns.  However, at this moment, I was about a week and a half sober, and those receptors would not shut up. The solution became apparent.  'Honey, before we go to the shelter, I'm going to need your help with something', I said as I turned around.  I guess the look on my face made it easy for her to figure out what I was alluding to.  'Russ, but...'. 'Shh,'  I said.  'Let's get out of here.'  I steered both her and the cart toward the check out line, and those empty receptors kicked it up a notch.