Quote:
For Casanova, as well as his fellow sybarites of the upper class, love and sex were more casual and less endowed with the seriousness later bestowed by the Romantic movement during the 19th century.[94] Flirtations, bedroom games, and short-term liaisons were common among nobles who married for social connections rather than love. For Casanova, it was an open field of sexual opportunities (and, alas, disease.)
Although multi-faceted and complex, Casanova's personality was dominated by his sensual urges: “Cultivating whatever gave pleasure to my senses was always the chief business of my life; I never found any occupation more important. Feeling that I was born for the sex opposite of mine, I have always loved it and done all that I could to make myself loved by it.”
It's like drinking from a fire hose. The data is pouring in.
Tuesday night, we had a prayer group in our home. Only one lady showed up, and it was great. We talked about spiritual warfare among other things, and I specifically prayed that the name of dp's opressing demon would be revealed to me.
After putting my daughter to sleep, I woke up at midnight and found him milling around the house downstairs, in a tight woman's shirt, with a pink bra strap showing. He was disfunctional. He was provocative, in that he was glorifying perversion and saying things that were repulsive to me, and it seemed like he was trying to provoke me.
It got so out of hand, that I finally reached across the island and put both hands on his shoulders, looked him straight in the eye, and asked the spirit, "what is your name?". Without so much as a blink or a smirk, he said, "Casanova". I thought he was just messing with me, so I blew it off and just started praying for him in a general sense, and went to bed.
The next morning, my wife found a cake she had made, ripped into "as if by an animal", with the plastic wrap torn open at the top and crumbs all over the counter and the floor. She went up stairs to ask him about it, and he was asleep, in the fetal position, in women's panties, on the floor on the thrshold of his room with both doors open. That was the last straw.
I got back from my run (had my older daughte with me on her bike) and my wife and youngest were outside, and she was REALLY upset. I went up and told him to "GET UP, GET DRESSED, AND GET OUT".
We agreed to meet at a cofee shop at 11, and he no-showed. He called and we agreed to meet at a different coffee shop, and he wasn't there either, because he went to an AA meeting and they took his keys.
He had not drank, but was drugged up. Seems he took about 21 Aderol, and then drove. I spoke with a couple older guys who have known him for a couple years and seen the pattern before. They convinced me to admit him to the local psych ward.
I admitted him on Wednesday afternoon, didn't get home till 10:30pm.