WARNING
STRONG LANGUAGE AHEAD

So there I was, lying in bed with Scout when I realized why, even the second night that I stayed the night, I just could not fall asleep: I’m not accustomed to being the actual boyfriend. I’m the piece on the side, the one night stand, the good time in a bar bathroom.

And now, I was the boyfriend. Weird. Like, Twilight Zone weird. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve had relationships – just not the monogamous kind. Yes, I am admitting it to all: I cheat. A lot. On pretty much everyone I “commit” to. As cold as it sounds, I just never got around to finding someone I actually wanted to be faithful to.

Until now. And that, well… is weird. But I want it enough to push past that weird factor and be a real, actual, one-on-one boyfriend.

And it’s tough. Not to stay faithful – I’ve found that rather easy. Of course, it helps that Scout makes me deliriously happy. That’s not an exaggeration. I smile waking up to text messages. Uh oh, I’ve turned into one of those people: half a couple. Not a bad thing though. I find I’m liking it. A lot. What are we doing? Where are we going? Look at me, I’m now a we! If only there wasn’t that damn, nagging downside…

Sleeping. That’s the hardest part.

I tried, for hours and hours and hours, to fall asleep. I did, a few times, for maybe half an hour each time. And each time, I woke up too wired to close my eyes again. I would climb out of bed, search for my clothes and realize, incorrectly of course, that I had to leave. I’d wander outside, have another smoke, then shuffle back to bed, strip down and try again.

Fail. Fail. Fail.

Finally, at five thirty-two in the morning, with Scout still sound asleep, I locked myself in the bathroom and pulled out my iTouch and started writing. As I stared at the screen, wondering what the fuck was wrong with me, I began to understand why my brain refused to shut up long enough for me to sleep.

The whore doesn’t spend the night, and I’m not used to being anything but. I’m kind of like Samantha Jones with a dick (I’m sure you’ve figured that out already). Not that I’ll fuck anything with a pulse, but I don’t feel that love and sex need to coexist for two or more people to have a good time. Sex, for a while (and at times) has also been a way for me to connect with someone(s) without really connecting (I’ll fuck you but don’t bother asking my name). Especially after a (former) best friend decided to shove a knife in my back, but that’s another column.

Then there is my history of being cheated on, the one cheated and the one being cheated on with. Been there, done that one and that one and that one…