The Chase, The Hunger That Never Gets Fed.

Understanding Compulsive Behaviour and the Search for a Connection.

We all have our coping mechanisms. Some people shop, some scroll, some work too much, and some seek validation in the arms of strangers. This isn't a story about morality, but it is a story about the human need for a connection and what happens when that search becomes a cycle of emptiness.

I feel I need to sit down with a friend and talk about a specific kind of cycle, one that can be incredibly difficult to break, especially when it's wrapped in the glittering, high-energy package of this life and instant intimacy.

It is a pattern of compulsion, often anonymous encounters that promise fulfilment but consistently deliver the opposite.

The Hollow High.

There are consequences of a decades long cycle when "The Chase" begins in the formative years, in the teen years, or early twenties, and continues for decades into one's 40s. Consequences are rarely just physical they become woven into the very fabric of one's life. The erosion of intimacy, that muscle for building deep, vulnerable, and sustained intimacy can cause atrophy. When connection is repeatedly equated with a brief, transactional encounter, the slow, sometimes messy work of real partnership can feel impossible, foreign, or unsatisfying. The result can be a profound and lasting loneliness, even when surrounded by people.

The psychological toll of this lifestyle is often a powerful coping mechanism for deeper issues like past trauma, internalised shame, anxiety, or depression. Over time, the cycle itself becomes the source of new shame or anxiety. The "high" of the hunt is inevitably followed by a crash, and that feeling of emptiness, regret, or self-loathing. The crazy part is that this fuels the need for the next encounter to escape those very feelings. It's a closed loop.

Over time, this continued behaviour can stop feeling like a behaviour and start feeling like an identity. Such that one can't imagine who they are without "The Chase." leading to a deep fear of change, as changing the behaviour feels like erasing oneself.

The physical realities, while practicing safer sex, is crucial; the law of probabilities is unforgiving. Decades of high-frequency random encounters significantly increase the risk of exposure to STIs, including those that are incurable or antibiotic-resistant, or other infections that are unknwn. Beyond that, there is the sheer physical and mental exhaustion of the late nights, the substance use that often accompanies the scene, and the neglect of basic self-care.

When a Coping Mechanism Becomes an Addiction. 

How do you know if it's a habit or an addiction? Here is a brief list that I have noticed:

       1.   Loss of control, the Inability to reduce or stop despite wanting to.

 2.      Neglect of life, loss of interest in responsibilities at work, friendships, and hobbies.

 3.     Continued use despite the negative consequences and the damage to mental health, finances, or physical well-being is clear, but the behaviour continues.

 4.    Using as a crutch until it becomes the primary way to cope with stress, loneliness, boredom, or sadness.

It is sometimes easy to notice these traits, but the question remains, how can I help? if you know someone going through some form of addiction, and if you recognize this pattern in someone you care about, your approach is everything. Remember that judgment will only push them away. Love and support might just pull them toward help.

Lead with compassion, not confrontation. Don't say, "You have a problem." Instead, try, "I've noticed you seem unhappy lately, and I'm worried about you. I'm here for you." Frame it around their well-being, not the behavior.

Separate the person from the behavior. Make it clear you love them, but you are concerned about the impact of their actions on their happiness.

Educate yourself and gently share resources. Research about behavioral addictions.

Most importantly, care of yourself. Supporting someone in an addictive cycle is draining. Seek your own support system to navigate your feelings and set healthy boundaries.

The Hardest Truth When They Refuse to See It.

This is the most painful part.

You cannot force someone to see what they are not ready to see. Denial is a powerful protective wall. You can't fight the wall head-on. Arguing will only make it stronger.

Plant seeds, don't demand a harvest. Gently point out the consequences you see and then let it go.

The only person you can truly save is yourself. Protect your own mental health. Letting go of the outcome, while holding onto love, is the most difficult and sometimes the most helpful thing you can do.

A Path Forward

Breaking a decades-long cycle is not about "stopping." It's about building. It's about building new neural pathways, new hobbies, new forms of community, and a new sense of self-worth that isn't tied to sexual validation.

It begins with asking a different question. Instead of "Who wants me tonight?" the question becomes, "What do I truly need to feel whole?"

The journey from "The Chase" to genuine connection is perhaps the bravest one a person can take. It’s a journey from a hunger that never gets fed to a table where one can finally sit down, and be truly nourished.

*****************    

Disclaimer:

This blog post is for informational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional medical or psychological advice. If you or someone you know is struggling, please know that help is available and recovery is possible.

 

The Words That Get Stuck

You know that feeling when you sit down to write, and your heart well… gets in the way, It’s all right there, a jumble of everything you’ve felt for months, ready to spill out. But then you think, “Who am I to pour all this out?” So you take a breath. You hold it in. You let the moment pass.

People talk about getting a grip on your emotions. The philosopher Seneca said we suffer more in our imagination than in reality. I read that and I wanted to believe it. I really did.

But our reality got pretty heavy.

A little over a year ago, my partner, Akin, found out his cancer was back. We’d just made it through the weird, lonely chaos of lockdowns. We were starting to dream again, making plans. Then, this. The wind was just knocked out of us.

And the weirdest part? To everyone else, we probably looked fine. Life had supposedly gone back to normal. But our normal had been completely upended.

I need to be honest about what that “upended” really looked like.

The image that will forever break my heart is one I didn’t even see. It’s the picture in my mind of Akin, sitting alone in a hospital waiting room before his first radiation treatment. He had to face one of the scariest days of his life by himself. And I wasn’t there. I still carry the guilt of that. It’s a sharp, quiet pain that never really goes away. It’s not just about love; it’s about basic human kindness. No one should have to feel that alone.

In times like that, you learn fast who’s really in your corner. The number of people who truly, consistently checked in? I could count them on one hand. And I am so fiercely grateful for them.

All I could think was, “How do I fix this? How do I help?” The answer was a cruel joke. Right at that moment, we both lost our jobs. Different reasons, same devastating result. The one thing I wanted the most was to be just there for Akin. The one thing I couldn’t manage.

It was a special kind of hell, him, dealing with the physical and mental drain of treatment, me, stuck on the sidelines, feeling useless. The treatment that was saving him was also stealing his energy, making even a quick text conversation feel like too much. We were in the same storm, but different, isolated boats.

We are standing now on the other side, thanks to the incredible medical team and the few loved ones who showed up with groceries, with rides, with just… presence. The people who did the practical stuff when my brain was too full of fear to function.

This whole experience changes you. It sharpens your focus.

I’ve realized that Akin is the kind of person who will never, ever ask for help. He’s the strong one, the quiet one. He’ll just keep going until he can’t.

And I’ve realised we all get so wrapped up in our own worlds that I know I did before this, that we forget to really see the people right in front of us. You don’t need to move mountains. You just have to send a text. Ask, “How did you sleep last night?” or “Did you remember to eat today?” It’s that simple. It’s that profound.

Some people couldn't be there because life gets in the way, and that's real. But others… others just didn't think to.

I started this by holding back the words. But some stories need to be told. This is ours.