The only person stupid enough to believe that sexual addiction therapy works is the the cuckold who has chosen to live in a state of denial.
What a damned joke!
Yes, Tiger Woods has entered sexual addiction therapy in Mississippi because Elin, his wife, has made it a condition of his returning to the marital bed.
This unfortunate woman, who should be taking some sensible advice, is so fixated on remaining with golf's Rocco Siffredi, she's willing to ignore the 18+ plus foreign holes he's driven his balls into over the course of their marriage.
It isn't Elin's fault that Tiger has pursued other options and openings. Elin isn't to blame for the Woodman's lies, deceptions, whoppers, and fairy tales, and she's not responsible for the holes he's played outside the golf course.
To a man with a Rocco Siffredi-sized sexual appetite, you have to ask: Why the fuck did you get married, dude? Are you nuts? Are you stupid?
Then, to further complicate matters, you went and had kids, too? Again: WHAT THE FUCK?!
Pal, you can have every bird you want. It's a buffet out there. You have the money, the power, and the pussy at your fingertips. Why complicate all that with marriage to a woman who's not cool with you swinging your woods and irons behind the clubhouse? A stop for drinks at the nineteenth is acceptable, but you've chipped your black balls into so many vaginal sand traps, anal bunkers, and Las Vegas rough, your scorecard needs a lateral extension.
Sex addiction therapy is a joke. It works for the shrinks who make millions from it, and the hopeful wives and girlfriends who crave the lie it tells, which is: The only thing he'll be banging from now on is you and his head (against the bathroom wall).
Seriously, if you want to fuck around, buddy (and there's nothing wrong with that!), it's best not to fuck with a woman's cranium. It's cruel and it's costly. She doesn't deserve it, the kids will despise you for it, and you don't need the aggravation that a life of lies, half-truths, and bold-faced bullshit entails.
For mine, the sexual addiction therapy gets off on the wrong footing from the get-go because men are not permitted to masturbate during the process.
Not permitted to masturbate?! You mean Tiger and Co. have to live with the distorted sense of reality that not masturbating, not releasing, creates in a man? Are these clowns fucking nuts? These experts are supposed to understand the way men think!
A no-masturbation clause will create a Tiger who will lie, cheat, bullshit, fabricate, and fantasize around the clock while getting distracted every time the window next door is blown slightly ajar.
For God's sakes, Mississippi Sex Therapists, as his unofficial adviser, I implore you to let the Woodman come!
A man is most honest immediately after coming because he's not distracted by his penis and its anarchic, anti-social, fuck-you-and-your family, I-Don't-Care-If-It-Costs-The-House ambitions. Isn't the point of therapy honesty? Well, there won't be an ounce of honesty when a raging boner is riding shotgun with the Woodman's best intentions.
To understand how Tiger really feels about his marriage, his wife, and his infidelity, stop the wanting, put an end to his insane, natural desire to want to slam his balls against the next pink sandtrap who struts through the therapy room door. Then, if you truly want to know how he really feels when he's not thinking about sex, get him between coming and his next erection, and suck the Truth (not semen) out of him. If you miss that opportunity, it's over. Sayonara, baby! You can take your bat and ball and go home.
Getting a guy like Tiger to stop fantasizing about other women will have as much success as getting him to switch teams for a week so he can bang Phil Mickelson and Jack Nicklaus on the 18th tee at Pebble Beach. It ain't gonna fuckin happen, folks. There may come a time when Tiger will cool his sexual heels, but no amount of "therapy" is going to facilitate that transition.
No one wants to admit it publicly, but fucking is great, insane, amazing, and men (and some women) enjoy (to put it mildly) a menu of strange and familiar. That's reality. Monogamy attempts to ignore that, and so does marriage, but it's the truth, and it's why so many marriages end in a heap of shattered, emotional pieces. There is no existing institution that accounts for the reality of human relations. So humans live in a permanent state of semi-denial, and for much of the time, manage to replace primitive cravings with proxies such as pornography, movies, video games, flirtations, sports, keg festivals, and masturbation.
A hundred therapists (say it: 'the rapists') will get filthy rich "rehabilitating" the Woodman, the injured wife will convince herself he's cured of an impossible-to-cure virus, and society will continue to sink under the weight of its straw institutions.
PGA does not mean Pussy Go Away; every golf widow knows that.