Last night I spent over at my friend's house and when we had quite the movie marathon. I won't give away the name of the movie so easily, but if anyone knows what movie I'm using here, then bonus points for you! Just please, whatever you do, DON'T RUIN THE MOVIE FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVEN'T SEEN IT! Also, I don't plan on using the same exact approach, so even if you see the movie, it'll be a little different here and there. Otherwise, it's just like the movie. Read on :)

For those who don't know me, it's a shame on your part. Also, it's highly improbable especially if you're of the female influence–and no, before you can make accusations, I am not your typical narcissistic, full-of-himself, dickface. Sadly enough, I'm a charming, sexy as hell, drop dead gorgeous, even seizure inducing lover boy toy that's very nice on the eyes–and just to clear things up, I've been told these things. Well, a few of those things–the others, I always knew about.

So before you can pass any more judgments on me, let me explain my dilemma. There I was, lying down on my back with the most beautiful, sexy woman in the entire universe lying on top of me completely naked after spending the night over and for some reason, I can't help but wonder if our children will get her eyes or mine. Personally, I was rooting for hers because they're another hot-as-hell trait that adds up to her beauty. Still not getting the problem here?

For those that aren't good at picking up clues after having them shoved right into your face, let me elaborate: I was falling in love. This girl was out of my world and as far as I was concerned, out of my league. And yet, there she was, on top of me while she was completely naked and loving me the same. Or so I thought.

What happened next forever scarred me and even today, just hearing her name brings back the most painful memories we shared together–us walking in the park and then me pinning her against the tree a second later, her cooking dinner in my kitchen and then I sneak up behind her and run my hands all over her body, etc. And then her words, her stinging words that poured the salt into the open wound of her rejection on my heart: "You're nothing but a sex addict."

For the first few seconds after hearing her response to a week later, all I kept telling myself and anyone who bothered to know why I was in such a slump was that she was wrong. No, I wasn't a sex addict. I just enjoyed sharing a gift God himself gave us repeatedly with her. Where was the harm in that? It wasn't like I had a drug addiction or anything to that caliber. And in comparison to most guys I knew, I wasn't the "worst" when it came to my addiction. I could stop anytime I wanted to, I could have a "real conversation" with her about life and other boring things like that that she wished we discussed but never had the time to since it required using our mouths that were usually busy doing something else.

But of course, she doesn't buy it at all. "You're a sex addict," she jeered, not even making eye contact as she ran around the apartment grabbing up discarded clothing from previous nights. "All you care about is sex and anything having to do with female anatomy!"

"I'm pretty sure gynecologists have the same 'problem' too," I said defensively. "And it's not a problem, babe. Are you complaining about our love life?"

She stood up after pulling a sweater over an evening gown and glared at me. "I'm not complaining about the sex, moron. The sex is great, but you aren't! You have no personality, no respect for me and to be honest, the sex was the only aspect of our relationship that kept us going after day one. You're a sex addict, and I'm done."

With those words resounding in my ears, she stormed out of my apartment never to be seen again. Or at least, that's what her intentions were.