The publicity department of HCI Books read my manuscript for LOVE ADDICT: SEX, ROMANCE AND OTHER DANGEROUS DRUGS — 288 pages on the history, science and treatment of sex and (mostly) love addiction — and this is what they came away with: “Ethlie has her first sexual experience at 18 and by age 22, had slept with 75 men.”  I don’t know if the writer of press releases was shocked, titillated or appalled at the number.  I thought it more noteworthy that I did this while maintaining a 3:7 grade point average.

The main thing they missed, though, is that not once did I think of myself as promiscuous.  I was convinced that each of these young men was the Love of My Life.  My problem wasn’t sexual profligacy; it was unmitigated optimism.  There was the Red Headed Artist, and the Catholic School Virgin, the Roommate’s Boyfriend (I’m sorry…) and the Married Record Promoter (sorry again….)  There was a guitarist, a drummer, a keyboard player and a vocalist - no, not from the same band.  Some of these have names I can associate with their faces.  Most do not.

See, I went to college after the Pill, before AIDS, and when a hook-up was the trailer hitch on the back bumper of your dad’s car.  Sex was the adult version of holding hands, a demonstration of romantic togetherness.  For a love addict-in-training like me, sex was a secret shortcut to intimacy.  My reasoning was that since I was sleeping with you because I fancied myself in a relationship with you, surely you were sleeping with me for the same reason.

This made me, among other things, a cheap date.  I was in more of a rush to the bedroom that he was, usually, because I mistook sweating on each other for bonding.  Hurry up and commit your naked body to me; if I get to know you, I may lose interest.  Addiction, we have come to learn, is largely fueled by the brain’s need for dopamine and dopamine is stimulated by novelty.  Between my ears, excitement passes for happiness and I misread desire as affection.

I plead youth and naïveté.  Also quantities of Gallo jug wines and Mexican marijuana.   I have come to understand that (pay attention; this is important) just because a man wants you, does not mean he loves you.  

Men, God love ‘em, will fuck sheep.