A couple months ago I sent you a simple email thanking you for doing what you do.Today, the power of your voice hit home. As you know, an angry, sexually frustrated gunman went on a killing spree at a fitness center in Pittsburgh. Reading his online blog, I am struck by the similarity of his situation to that of the men you counseled in last week's column. Of course, the similarity ends with the attitude and resolution; Sodini did not reach out, the men who wrote to you did. But the simple fact that you are there, that you are available, and that you make sense in such a common, HUMAN way... thank you.
The reason this strikes so close to me is that my situation for years was very similar. Although I wasn't a virgin, I was "clogged up" and unable to get close to people physically and emotionally. I overcame my fears and hangups, and life is good now. But it wasn't easy. I was never as angry as the man who shot up the fitness center, but I was absolutely as lonely and isolated as he was, and as lonely as the men whose letters you answered last week. And maybe if I'd been alone another 14 years (I found my life partner at 34), I may have become that angry.
Middle-Aged Family Guy Who Worked Hard To Become That
Thank you for the note, MAFGWWHTBT, and thanks—er—for the link to Sodini's blog. It's not uplifting reading. It's never pretty when chronic sexual deprivation and a lifetime of romantic rejection slams into a narcissistic personality with sociopathic tendencies.
A woman I knew at college—an anti-violence activist, righteous and right-on—used to say that "testosterone is gasoline, porn the match." I disagree. Testosterone is gasoline—which isn't necessarily bad (gas makes things go)—but sexual frustration is the match. That doesn't mean that this tragedy could've been averted if only some woman out there had "taken one for the team" and settled down with Sodini, an asshole and a sociopath. The women who rejected him clearly saw him for what he was and were right to run in the other direction. But seeing sex workers, which I advised the guys in last week's column to do (amongst other things), might have taken the edge off Sodini's anger and kept it from curdling into a homicidal rage. If we, as a society, valued sex workers and sex work and regarded "paying for it" as a legitimate option for guys who would otherwise go without, perhaps this tragedy might have been averted.
Don't get me wrong: I wouldn't wish a client as sick as Sodini on any my sex working pals. The man was violent and dangerous and, again, the women who ran from him were obviously right to do so. But if Sodini had started seeing sex workers back in 1990—the last time he says he had sex—maybe he wouldn't have become quite so angry and sick and violent and dangerous.
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But if Sodini had started seeing sex workers back in 1990—the last time he says he had sex—maybe he wouldn't have become quite so angry and sick and violent and dangerous.
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