Notes from an Unfaithful Lover

"Don Juan" photo courtesy of machinedance

I’m sorry, to all of you (past, present, and future) but please allow me to explain myself. When you aren’t here and she is, and we’re looking into each other’s eyes, there is good there, not just selfish lust. We are making each other happier. Briefly, fleetingly, but truly happier.

I do not act this way to hurt you, though I am aware of that consequence. I act this way because when I see an opportunity for happiness, my own or someone else’s, and that opportunity comes along with the carnal bliss that is everything up until and including orgasm, I cannot ignore it. You might not even think I try to, but I do, and I can’t. Not always.

It’s not really the sex that bothers you anyway (obviously), it’s the breach of trust and the thought of sharing me. When I am with her, it is as if some licentious milkmaid has stolen into your dairy and robbed you of your livelihood. I am more than happy to make my contribution to your health and well-being (and likewise enjoy and appreciate all that you accommodate me with), but after I have grazed for long enough (again, the time varies drastically depending on who/where you are), I will move on to greener pastures. It doesn’t mean I won’t come back, but I need to eat that fresh green grass to stay alive.

Of course, I’m not a cow. I’m not here to be milked. Maybe I am a bee, and though most of my time and energy is spent solely for the betterment of you and the hive, occasionally I’m going to be fascinated by the birds, and I’m going to want to share myself with them, and if they’re interested, let them share themselves with me. Please forgive my multifarious metaphors.

I am so tired of this cycle, but it is an essential part of who I am. I wish I could stop, I wish I could be happy with just us, whoever we are, but I can’t. And what I’m really trying to say, though this sounds cold, is that this has nothing to do with you. It is as cliché as it sounds, but that doesn’t make it any less true. I have a lot of love to give (maybe more than most), and if you can’t stand the thought of not having it all to yourself, even when I give you most of it, then maybe you are the one who is acting selfishly, not I.

The cause of this effect, or this defect, –
“For this effect defective comes by cause,”
Is what I have not leisure to inspect;
But this I must say in my own applause,
Of all the Muses that I recollect,
Whate’er may be her follies or her flaws
In some things, mine’s beyond all contradiction
The most sincere that ever dealt in fiction.
–Byron, Don Juan, Canto the Sixteenth, II