A paraphilia is kind of like an OCD sexual fantasy, which isn't to say you want to have sex and wash your hands three times while watching People's Court; rather you're hit with about a six month frenzy of intense sexual fantasies and urges based upon a specific act or fetish. Six months of all encompassing fantasies involving life-size cutouts of a Swedish bikini team and a turkey baster? How bad could that be?
The condition is experienced by a very small portion of the population, and of those the vast majority are male. We'd like to pretend to be shocked by that fact, but really who are we kidding?
Why it Would Suck:
Having a rich fantasy life is one thing, but paraphilias aren't just thoughts that lead your hand below the belt while you're busy reading or writing Internet comedy articles. These fantasies come with urges, and just like Sister Mary Merciless told us back in Sunday school, nothing good comes from following your urges.
Kenneth Pinyan, who has arguably one of the worst legacies a human can have, decided to act on his impulses and take a horse for a ride. So far, not traumatic. In his quest for gratification he indulged in some horseplay (see what we did there?) with a stallion at what the media dubbed a local bestiality farm, which is like Pepperidge Farm only slightly more disgusting.
Unfortunately for Kenneth, the old adage "hung like a horse" is not just colorful hyperbole, especially when you're spit-roasting yourself on a pack animal's wang.
We assume at some point during the event, Pinyan paused and thought "uh oh" and pondered if he might have done some lasting internal damage seeing as he was attempting the sexual equivalent of filling a five-pound bag with 10-pounds of horse kebob. This concern was trumped by his probably correct belief that his interspecies love affair might just raise a few eyebrows. Fearing for his job and reputation, he refused to go for medical aid and later died of complications from a perforated colon because, like mom always said, fuck a horse and you'll die from a perforated colon.
Beastiality, of course, is only one of the many horrifyingly uncomfortable paraphilias one can be afflicted with, which range from seemingly harmless if ridiculous ones like dendrophilia (a sexual attraction to trees) to nightmarish ones like coprophilia (a sexual attraction to feces) or necrophilia for you corpse lovers and emetophilia for the puke fans out there. They sound bad enough in print, but are probably even worse after your compulsion forces you to act on them and then face the family for Thanksgiving dinner after you wind up on the news for fucking a poplar.
Only recently documented, this condition can result in a near constant state of arousal for every waking moment of your day. So you're just really, really horny, right? As long as you keep a bottle of water or two handy to prevent you from withering away to a sticky husk, it doesn't really sound so bad at all.
Why it Would Suck:
When we say you're turned on all the time, we mean to the point that at the drop of a hat, you have an orgasm. The phone rings? Orgasm. White socks today? Orgasm. Caught your parents having sex? Goddamnit, orgasm.
"Oh, I am just all about this fucking sewer grate."
While a select few amongst us pride ourselves on our ability to orgasm in public (if you've ever been on a city bus you probably sat next to one at some point) most of us prefer to keep it on the down low. PSAs, on the other hand, will not. Every moment of your life could potentially be a re-enactment of the restaurant scene from When Harry Met Sally and God knows no one wants to see that shit again.
"THESE FUCKING SPEAKERS!"
Only 22 cases have been described so far and the condition has only been on the books since 2001. For those who do have it, it comes prepackaged with restless leg syndrome, as well as what polite doctors call "a frequent urge to void" as well as pelvic varicosis. So you piss a lot and you have horrifying, purple crotch veins.
The constant need to orgasm doesn't come with the usual feelings of being turned on or kick ass fantasies about Jessica Alba with a loofah either. Instead, it's just there while you're trying to go about your day. So it's more like having sudden, random coughing fits or a never-ending case of the hiccups. The difference being you can actually tell people about the last two without having them either laugh or accuse you of using the world's lamest pickup line.
For more downsides to stuff that otherwise sounds awesome, check out 9 Awesome Places to Have Sex (And the Horrific Consequences) and 6 Ridiculous Sex Myths (That Are Actually True).
And stop by Cracked.com's Top Picks to see which columnist suffers from priapism (it's Brockway).