This is a story about dangerous combinations...

When people started dying of AIDS, everybody thought it was a disease limited to homosexual men. Everybody knows that hetros get HIV too, but what about high levels of promiscuity and apps like Grindr? Well, hetros have Tinder now etc.

Silendafil (Viagra) started to be commercialised globally during the 90's, and this also changed the public consciousness, to make the use of drugs during romantic interludes, more widely accepted.

Performance enhancing drugs get everywhere. EPO & Anabolic Steroids in sport. Modafinil and Methylphendiate in academia. Cocaine on the banks' trading floors. Dexedrine for the fighter pilots and soldiers.

Sex now has Cabergoline, which allows men to have multiple orgasms, as well as the erectile dysfunction medications. Also, stimulants like Crystal Meth give people unhuman sexual appetites and stamina.

The problem with combining an addictive drug with a compulsive behaviour, is that you are linking hardwired survival circuitry into the learning & reward mechanisms, which creates a feedback loop. Every time you get horny, you're going to want drugs. You can't stop getting horny... it's evolved into your DNA. You've misprogrammed your mesolimbic pathway.

I ordered some alloy wheel cleaner from BASF in Germany, which a few drops of used to accidentally fall into a gulp of orange juice for my ex-wife and me. "Should we do some more?" she used to say, and can you believe that I used to have to be the sensible one and say "no, we'd better stop there. Know our limits. Keep a handle on this thing".

So, my divorce was more than the loss of a life partner. It was the loss of a shared drug & sex addiction too. It wasn't healthy. It was co-dependent. It needed to end. It's just that whoever was weaker at the time was going to get destroyed. That was me.

If you feel like a freak, don't worry, in London you'll blend right in. You can get a f**k on Craigslist in about 30 minutes, on on Tinder in about an hour. I once met a chap in the park who asked me to be his eyes to get him to hospital because he had gone literally cross-eyed after eating 16 Viagra.

Too Much Information (TMI)? Well, actually, if you read more carefully there's no actual confession there. I'm just giving you the scope and the scale of the problem. The parameters that I'm working with.

Thankfully, you can't just walk to a stall on Camden Market, or a sex shop in Soho and buy Legal Highs now. You can't do it on a whim. You can't just happen to be passing by.

You can't even sell Legal Highs now. You have to call them Research Chemicals, and mark them as toxic. Not for human consumption. That's right. Accidents happen though.

None of this stuff is in my life, but it's 24 hours waiting for the postman away.

I've been dreaming about having a meal, having something to eat, but every time I wake up I feel too overwhelmed. I've lost my appetite. It can't possibly be a lack of blood in my drugstream, because there isn't anything alien in my system. I'm as clean as a whistle.

There's a mountain of things I need to deal with, including drinking & eating enough. Most of it is very mundane and practical. I know we've all shoved post in a drawer and tried not to think about it at some stage in our life. Imagine doing that with everything you need to do, including the consumption of enough calories to sustain life.

I'm sorry it all sounds a bit pathetic and needy. I'm sorry it's all so sordid and grubby. I'm sorry it's all so personal and embarrassing and shameful and private. You know, it's exhausting, hiding an alter ego that you're terrified of anybody discovering.

Oh well, f**k it. Cat's out of the bag now. I'm so exhausted. I'm going back to sleep. Maybe I'll have a lovely dream about Greggs the Baker again.

Tags: #addiction #alcohol #drugs #sex #divorce