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So many veterans’ stories begin with them coming back home to find it’s a place with which they no longer identify. I don’t want to overstate my problems, but as a man who went to Iraq as a proud Marine only to realize what was happening there was nothing short of catastrophic, I started to rethink where exactly my heart aligned with my nation and where it fractured and split.

My heart, though, was not the only part of me in need of repair. I need medication to keep post-traumatic stress disorder from completely overrunning, and ending, my life. Before the meds, there was drinking and drugs, but those led me nowhere. Eventually I found out that the bottoms of bottles and barrels look a whole lot alike. Not that the pills make life easy. I am disabled — my back broken down by my years as a machine gunner in the Marine Corps — and my compressed and bulging discs ache. Moments of rage, confusion, terror and paranoia make me feel like an alien; night terrors interrupt my sleep, soak my sheets with sweat; and flashbacks haunt my waking hours.

These are the problems you read about in veteran tell-alls of every sort. But another is less often shared: the pills I take to manage the symptoms of these conditions kill my libido. So I was prescribed Viagra — pills begetting pills. I don’t need it every time, but in case I do, I have it.

Armed by the V.A.’s pharmaceutical regimen, I entered the online dating world, hoping companionship would bring a bit of pain relief and sanity. But online profiles seemed painfully shallow. My medications made me feel weird. The doctors told me to be vigilant for seizures, to tell someone if I felt strange in a bad way. My friends said I needed to be patient.

Before I had a solution to my arousal problems, I felt helpless. Now I feel more hopeful, but also confused and a little afraid. Viagra seemed like a straightforward enough solution at first. I would ask a woman out on a date, and after a few dates, we would have sex — easy to plan. But deciding whether or not I’ll need some pharmaceutical assistance is tricky, and the consequences usually bear a tone of finality. If I take Viagra, I’ll be “good to go,” as we used to say in the service. If I take it but don’t need it, my throbbing erection will shift painfully under my belt. If I need it and don’t take it, then I’m sure to experience erectile dysfunction. If I do decide to take it, that’s a call I need to make about 90 minutes in advance. A lot can happen in that window.