Addicted

I happen to be fortunate enough to be friends with a guy I'll call Evan. Evan has that rare thing that I like to call "magnetism". He can walk into a room and just command attention. He doesn't have to say a word, but the way he carries himself, says it all. For some reason, people just seem to be drawn to him, and its just a natural phenomenon that can't be explained. The same way asians are drawn to coupons is the way people seem to be drawn to Evan. Women want him, and men want to be him. Its a pretty damn good situation to be in. Evan has got it all. The looks, the style, the charm, the career, and of course the women. He has the ability to make people laugh by just being himself. He has a divine gift for humility and candor.

Evan, my friends, has an ADDICTION. That's right, my friend who has everything in the world a man could want, also has an addiction. His addiction is not easy. Like all addictions he thinks he has it under control, but the truth is...your addiction controls you, never the other way around. For a long time he didn't realize he had an addiction, and he thought he was just being "normal" and it got him into a lot of trouble. He thought to himself "What? Everybody does it. What's the big deal"? Then came the denial, just the disbelief that he was different from everybody. How could someone that is so loved, be so flawed? He just refused to believe it.

It was a cold lonely night when Evan finally admitted he had a problem. He had just finished dinner with some colleagues, and they headed over to the Hustler Club for some after dinner drinks and "dessert" as he always called it. He was doing his thing. He was charming the women, and they in turn were taking care of Evan's clients. Everyone was happy. Then while he was sitting down and enjoying his drink one of the strippers sat on his lap and started talking to Evan and playing with his hair. Before he could realize what had happened two bouncers were carrying him out the door and threw him on the streets. "Kick that fucker's ass! He fucking tried to steal my thong! That low-life son of a bitch! I feel so violated" cried the stripper as she sobbed.

You see ladies and gentleman, my friend Evan is addicted to women's underwear. He can't get enough of it. He needs it. Its the reason why many women he's hooked up with never call him again, because its embarrasing getting into a cab without your underwear, and who would want to humiliate themselves that way? The worst came that night in the strip club, when he tried to slip the stripper's thong off while she was talking to him. In the midst of all the conversation and alcohol, he accidentally pulled too hard, and broke the thong. Not only was the stripper embarrased, but all her singles came falling down from the piece of nylon that was holding them in place. Evan, has never been the same since.

I always wondered why I never saw him with the same girl more than once, and after I knew the truth it all made sense. I figured sure its nice to be with a different gorgeous knock-out every night but at least one of them you'd like to see more than once. Anyhow, Evan is still the same charming guy he always was. However, he has to be careful with himself. He can't walk into a Target or worst - a mall by himself. The last time he tried that he was caught stealing the thong off of a manquin at Victoria's Secret, and I had to talk to security so they didn't press charges.

Addictions, are never easy. They are battles that have to be fought all the time, and require tremendous will power. Hopefully, some day, my friend Evan will be able to look at a woman's g-string or a thong as a part of her attire, and not as a symbol of conquest.