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December 12, 2017 | celebrity | Lex Jurgen | 0 Comments
David Duchovny was one of the first, or certainly more prominent Hollywood guys who fucked around in their marriage to claim sex addiction as their sympathetic excuse. Because only a recognized medical disease can cause men to want to get into some side tail. It used to be the diseases only came about as the result. Technically, Michael Douglas set the standard when he begged off his less hot wife for Catherine Zeta-Jones. Then later double down on his legacy by claiming going down on Zeta-Jones’s HPV-agina gave him throat cancer. Douglas is a legend in this field.
In 2008 Duchovny checked himself into sex rehab when his wife, Tea Leoni, found out he was fucking every third chick who came down PCH through Malibu. This was about the time Duchovny was shooting Californication and banging lots of hot young actresses for the role of a lifetime. It’s far too easy pickings for a man in his late 40’s. God gives you the drive for pussy when you’re too dumb and broke to get all you want, then ebbs the flow when you’re in a position to get all you want. That’s how middle-aged men get important work done.
Duchovny later reconciled with Leoni after he was temporarily cured of wanting to fuck attractive women, but it didn’t last long because the cure is obviously fake. They divorced and Duchovny dealt with his underlying addiction as any junkie would without a wife or mother-figure around to check him — he dove in.
Duchovny’s now 57. His latest pull is a 24-year old Malibu organic juice bar barista named Monique Pendleberry (college cutesy video above, DailyMail bought their only photos together). They Soul Cycle in between colonics and capsules producing powerful erections. Fucking an old dude’s kind of embarrassing, but at least she doesn’t have to clean the juicer any longer. Also, unlimited X-Files set visits.
Radar Online got somebody who may or may not actually know Duchovny to claim he’s mad for Pendleberry and she may actually “be the one”. The one what remains the mystery. You know how fantastically romantic older rich men get about the 90th struggling young actress they’ve boned.
Duchovny and his libido and all the bullshit amateur psychology around it remind us that no matter the changing social mores and shifts of political power and gender realignments, shit never really changes. We’re all merely animals. If you can wade past the need for people to define matters in comforting terms, it’s kind of reassuring.