I have Authorexia.  It’s a disorder apparently.

It’s a disorder because I spend more than three hours a day thinking about this book I’m writing.  I actually plan when I’ll sit down and write.  I put it on a calendar and everything.  And the quality of what I write matters more to me than how much I enjoy writing it.  And the more I work on this book the less time I have for more enjoyable pursuits…like sitting around, or reading books, or talking to my wife or having sex with her.

Oh yea, I also have Sexorexia.  I sometimes plan when I’d like to have sex with my wife and I probably think about sex with my wife at least three hours out of every twenty-four…or pretty close to it.  I’m sick.  I know I am.  I get an ego boost when this beautiful intelligent woman thinks it’s a good idea to have sex with me.  It also makes me feel happy and if I didn’t have sex with my wife for too long, well, I confess I’d feel something resembling not happy.  I like sex with my wife and my wife so much that I’ve given up sex with other women and the pleasure those women could give me in order to have sex with my wife.  I’d just feel guilty if I didn’t.

There it is.  I have numerous orexias.  Do you still love me?  My publisher and my wife do.

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