We Are Not a Glum Loton the Road of Happy Destiny
An old recovering sexaholic is visiting his doctor. Although sober for 10 years now, after a life as an active saxholic with drinking and drugging, it’s taken a toll on his health.
– “Tell it to me straight, doc. I survived prostitutes, viagra, booze and cocaine, I can take it.”
– “Your pancreas and kidneys are shot. Worse, you’ve got cancer. And the tests show early onset Alzheimer’s.”
– “Geez, doc… Alzheimer’s — that’s the one that affects your memory, right?”
– “I’m afraid so.”
– Well, at least I don’t have cancer.”
Jim is told by his sponsor that he needs to participate more in service work. So he applies for the position of treasurer. They hold a group conscience and ask him “What is nine multiplied by four?” He thinks quickly and says “Thirty-three.” After the interview, he realizes his mistake.
He’s surprised when they inform he got the job, despite there being four other candidates.
“But I got the wrong answer,” he protests. “Yeah, we know. But you were closest.”
Two SA’s are talking about what is going to happen to them after they die. One believes in heaven, the other isn’t so sure so they agree a pact. The first one to die will come back as a ghost on the anniversary of their death and appear in front of the surviving one to prove whether or not there is an afterlife.
A few years pass and the first SA dies sober.
A year later the surviving SA is sitting in a meeting and he feels a coldness in the air, looks around and sat next to him is the ghost of his old pal. He’s holding a harp, wearing a gold halo and has a couple of white feathered wings on his back.
The ghost turns to his pal and says, “I’ve got some good news and some bad news. The good news is there is a heaven. Bill and Bob, and Roy and Jesse, and many others are up there and they have SA meetings every week, you’ll love it. The bad news is you’re sharing next Tuesday.”
– What makes recovering sexaholics good bankers?
– They have a lot of experience with withdrawals.
I heard the following story recently at a meeting and wanted to share it with the Essay readers.
A sexaholic is cruising the pavement, looking at triggers everywhere, and falls into a hole. He tries and tries to get out but can’t. He starts shouting. “Help me! Help me!”
A priest and rabbi come walking down the road. They hear his shouts, look down the hole and are filled with compassion. “My, my. This is a terrible situation. How did you come to fall into that hole, young man?” When the man tells them how he fell into the hole, they tell him that his situation is sad and that they will pray for him, very hard. They give him their blessing and pass on their way.
The man continues to shout. “Help me! Help me!”
Another man comes along and looks into the hole. He is a psychologist. “Oh my,” he says and asks the man how he fell down the hole. “I suggest to you” the psychologist says, “that you did not fall down the hole so much as that you are hiding down there – from feelings. Tell me about your childhood.” After one hour, the psychologist walks away, saying he will be back next week.
Eventually this other guy comes along, sees the man in the hole and jumps in.
“What have you done?” the first guy says, amazed. “Now we’re both stuck and can’t get out”. “Don’t worry,” the second guy says. “I know this place. I’m a sexaholic too and I know the way out.”
Francis P., Manchester, UK
A scientist interrupts an SA meeting. “I’ve just invented a cure for sexaholism! Take one of these pills and you’ll never be a sexaholic again!”
An SA asks, “What happens if you take two?”
A newer member of SA decided he didn’t need to go to any more meetings. After a few weeks, his sponsor decided to visit him. It was a chill evening and the sponsor found the sponsee at home alone, sitting before a blazing fire.
Guessing the reason for his sponsor’s visit, the sponsee welcomed him, led him to a big chair near the fireplace and waited.
His sponsor made himself comfortable, but said nothing. In the grave silence, he contemplated the play of the flames around the burning logs. After some minutes, the sponsor took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all alone. Then he sat back in his chair, still silent.
The sponsee watched all this in quiet fascination. As the one lone ember’s flame diminished, there was a momentary glow and then its fire was no more. So, it was cold and “dead as a doornail.” Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting.
Just before the sponsor was ready to leave, he picked up the cold, dead ember and placed it back in the middle of the fire. Immediately it began to glow once more with the light and warmth of the burning coals around it.
As the sponsor reached the door to leave, the sponsee said, “Thank you so much for your visit and especially for the fiery sermon. I’ll see you at the meeting in the morning.”
The wife of an emotionally unsober sexaholic wants to please her man, so she gets up one morning and makes him two scrambled eggs. He sits down for breakfast, and is angry and upset. She asks him what is wrong, and he says “I wanted poached.”
The next day, she gets up again, and makes him two poached eggs, and once again, he is upset. She asks what is wrong, and he says “I wanted scrambled.” So she thinks and thinks, and figures out her plan …
The third day, she gets up and makes him two eggs—one scrambled, and one poached! She sits back, quite proud of herself, waiting for her spouse to sit down. He comes to the table, and once again is angry and upset. She says, “Aghast, how can you possibly complain now—I made you one scrambled, and one poached …” He simply looks at her with disdain, and says “You scrambled the wrong egg!”
Someone at a fashion show notices that a man doesn’t take second looks of the very beautiful women. She turns to him and asks him why he, unlike all the other men in the room, isn’t staring at them. He says “I can’t, I’m allergic. I break out in handcuffs.”