Lover of the Week

When will I finally break down and quit doing this?

My car continues to accumulate nicks on the steering wheel. It's an old tradition of mine, whenever I have sex with a new person in one of my automobiles I summon the energy, just afterward, to pull out my knife, crawl halfway into my front seat and give the leather-covered object a cut to add to the others, my tally-marks. And then the questions start: she or he always has to ask... as if they can't figure it out already (actually, considering a few people I've slept with, maybe they can't figure it out).

This old habit has survived a serious long-term relationship, two failed engagements, and two marriages. I'm on the second one now, and wouldn't you believe it, this little habit of mine isn't what caused my relationship troubles in any of these cases. My newest wife is insanely jealous, however, and there's always a fuss whenever she finds I've been out sleeping around all night, but I've gotten careful and her discoveries are few and far between now. My wife before that, God rest her soul, rather than having a fit (well, usually) would blame it on some mental disorder or another, being the psychologist she was. Her detective brother took care of the hissy-fits for her.

I used to deny the title, but now I just live with it: I'm a slut. We're all familiar with the old slogan, 'he who dies with the most toys wins', but my philosophy, whether I like admitting it or not, is something more along the lines of 'he who dies with the longest list wins'.

The people I sleep with outside of my marriage all know better than to take anything we're doing seriously. And it's partially because of this that my regret gets worse and worse every time I do it. Thankfully it's not chronic, I feel bad for about an hour at most, then it's gone. It just gets deeper and deeper with each affair I have.

And it's not that my wife doesn't please me. She is a very... er... talented woman, and I have yet to find even her rival when I'm out slutting around.

So where's the real logic in it?

We are all familiar with the sinking sensations in our stomach associated with things like realizing you woke up at a ridiculously early hour on a weekend, or realizing that you habitually turn off all the lights in a room just because your mother, years and years ago, used to yell at you until you did. It's a kind of habitual conditioning, and sometimes it goes so far that simply a 'habit' becomes something so deep and involved it's part of your being, part of who you are. We don't realize we do it sometimes, and in many cases, we don't like that we do it.

I'm a politician as well-- recently I worked on a legislation involving punishment for compulsive gamblers.

What right do I honestly think I have to judge someone else's addiction?

I'm just like that shivering man you see driving a needle into his arm. I'm just like that elderly woman saying to herself, 'just another coin into the slot machine'. The only difference between us all, is our fix. I can guarantee that it sure builds a schedule in us. Not a set one, exactly, but if you come around now and then, you'll see me at least once, hanging around in that smoke and alcohol infested pub and searching for the lover of the week.