Connubialis Nervosa

AP, 5 August 2009: George Sodini seethed with anger and frustration toward women. He couldn't understand why they ignored him, despite his best efforts to look nice. He hadn't had a girlfriend since 1984, hadn't slept with a woman in 19 years. "Women just don't like me. There are 30 million desirable women in the US (my estimate) and I cannot find one. Not one of them finds me attractive," the 48-year-old computer programmer lamented in a chilling diary he posted on the Internet. For months, he also wrote vaguely about using guns to carry out his "exit plan" at his health club, where lots of young women worked out. On Tuesday, Sodini put his plan into action. He went to the sprawling L.A. Fitness Club in this Pittsburgh suburb, turned out the lights on a dance-aerobics class filled with women, and opened fire with three guns, letting loose with a fusillade of at least 36 bullets.

I wonder if five or ten years from now this guy won't be looked at as one of the first suffers of a new anxiety disorder? An anxiety disorder spawned by our grossly sexualized culture?

Sodini seemed to think hooking up was the be-all and end-all to existence. Life wasn’t worth living without sexual validation.

The poor fellow hit a dry spell when he was thirty years old. . .he couldn’t get laid. . .couldn’t get laid in a culture that was choking with easy sex. . .and then internet porn exploded. . .and then high school girls were showing what they know on MySpace and cell phones and having texting orgies. . .everywhere he looked, people were fucking or virtually fucking. . .everybody was fucking—except him. It didn’t make sense. So he started obsessing. . .what’s wrong with me???? His internet diary is full of passages like this:

I guess some of us were simply meant to walk a lonely path. I have slept alone for over 20 years. Last time I slept all night with a girlfriend it was 1982. Proof I am a total malfunction. Girls and women don't even give me a second look ANYWHERE. There is something BLATANTLY wrong with me that NO goddam person will tell me what it is.

Here’s a decent-enough looking guy, who had good jobs, made good money, was apparently in good physical health, and from his web page seemed like he could at least get along with co-workers and acquaintances. . .yet he had this sex barrier.

It must have been an anxiety disorder, due to his growing obsession with his celibacy in the Übersexual States of America. . .

What’s wrong with me?

It began to prey on his mind. . .so much so, you can imagine this poor bastard on one of his infrequent dates. . .he probably had little difficulty meeting women, interacting with them, say, in the work environment, to the point where he could get them to agree to a date. . .but I would bet that when they were on the date, he felt so anxious he turned into a stammering, twitching, sweating loser. . .

Connubialis Nervosa. . .

The longer he didn’t have sex in a culture stinking of semen and vaginal secretions, the more impossible it seemed. . .grade schoolers were getting laid, for crying out loud! Grade schoolers were banging their art teachers left and right, and here he was, night after night, week after week, month after month, year after year, decade after decade, all alone, all alone. In his depressing blog, he reveals:

I masturbate. Frequently.

All day long in the Übersexual States of America he sees the orgies of easy sex. . .and yet every night he is alone with his fist. So there must be something wrong. . .but he couldn’t figure it out. . .he was the 48-year-old virgin. And intercourse seemed unattainable. To poor George Sodini, our first case of connubialis nervosa, scaling the mons pubis seemed as impossible as scaling Olympus Mons. . .

The man simply forgot how to fuck. . .his life resembled that episode of Beavis and Butt-head where they forget how to piss. . .

He became alienated from all those fornicators around him. . .alienated from the übersexual culture. . .the man without a cuntry. It drove him mad. . .and he had to destroy that which he could not have.