this network of potential intrigues had constituted a kind of safety net, or security, for me.

was faced, rather, with the choice to withdraw from my obsessive/compulsive pattern of sexual pursuit and emotional dependency.

I realized that I could have been anyone else, that my seeming uniqueness as a “lover” was an illusion. I was trying to trump up a sense of my singular, irreplaceable qualities as a person through engaging in one of the great common denominators of mankind. Hardly unique, I was merely another player.

It put me in touch with what the end could look like were I unable to stop: insanity, institutionalization, or suicide.

One aspect of my relationship with Sarah had been that I felt able to share my real feelings, my true self with her.

“Other people might not experience it this way,” I thought, “but for me my sexual nature is the baseline—the foundation of who and what I most truly am.” It was something I did not want to change.

To me, every fresh pursuit held the promise of new and novel intrigue. I thought I was living the life that others secretly envied.

Jean was, I thought, hooked on me. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Since my whole identity was constructed around being desirable and irresistible, this sent my head spinning.

The more she bombarded me, the more I figured that I had her hooked, and that I could remain uncommitted without fear of losing her.