Getting hard shouldn't be hard.

Drew tells me to concentrate on the process, rather than the goal-- to enjoy the caressing and the touch-- and to just "let it happen." I have friends who can't get an erection because of various AIDS drugs they're on, or friends who because of social drugs like X, K, or Crystal-- are horny but can never really perform. Do you think THEY'RE concentrating on the goal while being stoned out of their minds?

It's about hiding from the goal of intimacy-- removing yourself from reality and your feelings in order to have a good time. Hey, I don't judge because I've done it with sex-- using it to feel alive and whole-- as I searched for my humanness in my sex drive to hide my own insecurities and fear.

Blah, blah, blah. I remind myself of my old sex counselor who spewed words of wisdom. While I understood most of it intellectually, I always had to challenge myself to truly comprehend him emotionally. And yet, now that I'm at the crossroads of dealing with the fact I'm a sex addict, for the first time I'm pondering what exactly does turn me on.

I find Drew completely unattractive and I'm hoping it's just a phase. I look at him and know he's handsome, sexy, and quite charming-- but he does nothing for me. Have I finally entered that stage you always hear about when couples move from sexuality to friendship because the sex has finally become so dull they find their connections and solace else where? I'm not allowed to have sex with anyone but my committed partner, I know that, but then why won't I get hard?

I searched through my desk drawer, finding Hillary's card. She mentioned she was part of this sexaholics group in Los Angeles and knew I could get a lot out of it. I picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello?" the guttural woman's voice answered.

"Hillary, it's Eric. From the clinic."

There was a pause as I heard her mind working, the memory cells configuring the picture of me in her brain.

"Oh, Eric. Yes. How are you!?" Her voice sent a warm smile across me of someone who understood EXACTLY what I was going through.

"I'm doing good." I paused. "Actually, I'm...okay. I'm struggling."

"We all are."

"Which is why I was calling. About your group."

"Oh, yes?"

We continued, catching up, sharing stories of our entrance back into society as we found our feet, sometimes standing and sometimes running.

"Have you had sex?" I asked.

"No," she responded. "And I haven't masturbated or fantasized. I'm 5 weeks sexually sober but it feels like 5 fucking years. You?"

"I'm having trouble. Performance issues."

"Perfectly normal, Eric."

"I know, but it's different when it's happening to you. All the stats, all of the talk about it-- and here it is-- with me."

"How is Drew?"

The way Hillary asked she suddenly sounded so familiar, so recognizable.

"He's coping, best he can. How'd you know his name?"

"You talked about him at the clinic. I'm great with names. Photographic memory, really."

I told her we were having to re-assemble ourselves, deciding what our roles were, and how to function with each other in a new way. She understood, listening with the concern of a mother and the reasoning of a best friend.

I scribbled down when her next meeting was and the address, realizing I'd be part of a new group that could hopefully help me process this hard situation.

Or rather, process this soft situation.