"If Mike didn’t show, I had a 19-year-old backup plan named Travis, a regular in one of the AOL chat rooms I frequented. We had never met in person, but he lived close to Mike, so it seemed logical that I should have sex with both of them on this trip — Mike in my car, Travis in his apartment."
Such double-deckers were a common occurrence, and as the writer goes into treatment he compares the sex high as the same any substance abuser may garner from an addiction to drugs and alcohol. An entire psychosomatic condition fueled by a moment of finally "feeling OK."
He considers himself "sober" today but addresses the inherent trickiness of cultivating a normal love life. What's unique about sex addiction, is that it's unrealistic to think one will cease having sexual experiences—an alcoholic could theoretically never drink again, but could someone put a lid on sex?
Throughout therapy the author settles on cathartic but generic solution:
For me, recovery is about far more than not meeting strangers for sex in deserted parking lots. It’s about learning not to harm others or myself. It’s about living an authentic, unselfish life—the opposite of addiction.