Crazy Stupid Lust

Today my bird bath froze over, and I had the humorous sight of seeing birds ice skate as they tried to drink from it.  A bird thinking ice is drinkable water is less crazy than me thinking a person on a magazine page loves me.  And my actions as a result of that thought have been less dignified than ice skating.

"The sexaholic at certain times has no effective mental defense against the first drink" (adapted from the AA Big Book).  I was thinking about how my conscience used to attempt to stop me with mental defenses as I was opening some porn magazine.

Conscience: You don't really want to lose your sobriety over a magazine, do you?  That would be silly, wouldn't it?

Me: Uh-huh.

Conscience: That image is not a person.  It's a two-dimensional pixilated representation of a human who is not present here at this time.

Me: Uh-huh.

Conscience: Despite the desirous look in the image's eyes, it is not really looking at and wanting you.  If a duck were looking at this page, he would be receiving the same look.

Me: Uh-huh.

Conscience: The producer of the magazine is laughing at you for being stupid enough to think this image can provide you love.  He's laughing all the way to the bank.

Me: Uh-huh.

Conscience: That model is probably being drugged, or at the very least exploited.  Have you no compassion?

Me: Uh-huh.

Conscience: By the way, you're still driving back from the porn store right now.  Don't you think you should be watching the road?  You might crash and die.

Me: Uh-huh.

Conscience: Then your parents would learn you'd died surrounded by porn.

Me: Uh-huh.

Conscience: You'll be filled with self-hatred afterwards and guilt and fear.... You'll hate yourself.  You always do!  There's never been a time when you haven't.

Me: Uh-huh.

Conscience: I give up.

Me: Thank God.  Getting you to shut up is part of why I lust.

I'm still crazier than a bird trying to drink ice.  With God via meetings providing my defense now, I'm just not slipping these days.