Sometimes you hear on the news about weird medical conditions that actually cause more sex than normal. And when you hear about the poor dude whose condition caused him to have sex with 300 women you think, hell, how do I catch that shit?
But these conditions are kind of like eating at Taco Bell. It may sound awesome in theory, but personal experience may leave you with internal bleeding.
Commonly referred to as nymphomania by Internet perverts and perverts who still eschew technology but like the idea just the same; hypersexuality is what happens when your libido cranks the dial to 11 and leaves it there.
Frat guys throughout history have fantasized about dating a "total nympho," thinking they'll wind up with a special lady friend with a sex drive that rivals a three dicked hummingbird on E. It's been the subject of more Penthouse letters than can possibly be counted.
"And this one time, she tried to have sex with me while she was already having sex with me. It was awesome."
For menfolk, the condition is known as satyriasis, which is Greek for "having the wang of a goat-legged man" and it means you are now Wilt Chamberlain, minus the distraction of basketball.
Why it Would Suck:
A woman in the UK developed hyerpsexuality after suffering a massive brain hemorrhage, which seems like a really awesome superhero background story. Not expected to live, she surprised everyone by waking up and trying to ride her husband like a Shetland pony.
Some of you guys are still rooting for the disorder at this point, but that's because you're probably assuming the "nympho" only has the hots for you. Unfortunately, that's not how compulsions work. The victim estimates she boned about 50 random, and probably surprised, strangers in the two years since her accident.
Her husband frequently gets called home from work because she's in the driveway trying to bone some random dude. Nowadays she can no longer work, and her ability to focus is on par with an eight-year-old armed with a television remote which, in this case, is shaped like a wiener.
Yeah, it turns out pretty much anything can stop being fun once you're only doing it due to a short-circuit in your brain. And this is actually worse than say, compulsive over-eating or sleeping, because those don't carry a stigma that will make you famous around the neighborhood and, well, on websites like this one.
Priapus was a Greek fertility god known for his excellent quiche and the fact he was sporting a two-foot boner all the time. When eternal two-foot boners fell out of fashion, they gave the god's name to the medical condition priapism, which is wood that just won't quit.
Priapus. But you probably didn't need us to tell you that.
This is considered one of those "good problems" in a culture where erectile dysfunction ranks a notch above "terror attack" on most men's Panic Scale. This is why the "herbal Viagra" industry dominates email spam. Millions of men think having their groin turned into a pube enshrouded temple of awesome for hours at a time would accomplish most of their life goals.
Why it Would Suck:
The problem with priapism is that nothing can bring your little soldier down from attention. Even when you've had your fun, he's still saluting. Doesn't sound so bad except that, when you're hard all the time it's the result of blood pumping in to the wang but not out. This can lead to blood clots, gangrene and the future inability to ever have an erection again. Oh, and pain. Severe pain.
For people who have to get medical attention for this--and it's not uncommon--the solution starts with the cringe worthy tactic of packing your crotch with ice. If exposure to frostbite inflicting levels of cold fails to work, they can try needles, shunts, drainage and injections of decongestants into your shiny new dicksicle.
Generally speaking, those are the frontline treatments, like say if your wang has been up for more than four hours or so. Some people--like a Peruvian farmer whose name was not provided so we'll just call him Chubs McWeiner--will hold out for eight solid days before seeking medical attention. Eight days with what we have to assume by the end looked an awful lot like a bratwurst stuffed with grape jelly.
In cases like that, surgery is the only option. We won't give you the details of the surgery (we're sure you can find pics of it out there) but let's face it, there's no non-invasive method for surgically deflating your junk.