Extra! Extra! Sex Addict on the Loose!

On a bus ride to Woodstock one Friday after work, I sat next to this attractive, friendly guy named Derek. We struck up a conversation. I noticed he was wearing a wedding band, which as far as I was concerned meant he was completely off-limits. But just because a guy is married doesn't mean you can't talk to him, right?

We had a fun, flowing conversation throughout the two-hour trip. When he asked what I "do" I told him assistant-type work, and that I write true stories about my life for my website, Laura's NYC Tales.

When the bus arrived at his stop we said our good-byes. I handed him one of my Laura's NYC Tales business cards. He said, "I'll check out your site and send you an e-mail."

"Uh, huh," I replied, assuming I would never hear from him.

Later that night I checked my e-mail, and to my surprise there was an e-mail from him. More surprising was what it said: "Man o' man, do I have a crush on you. You are one extraordinary woman. Please write back."

Wait a minute -- this guy's married. What's this crap he's trying to pull?

I sent the following reply: "I have a question for you. You said on the bus that you were, 'Married, but not really.' Is your wife really married?"

He e-mailed me again on Monday morning. "How about we meet tonight for a movie to discuss?" He suggested meeting in Bryant Park see a free outdoor movie.

Hmm. What to do? I wasn't interested in him romantically -- I don't fool around with married men. But would it be immoral to meet for a movie, along with hundreds of others, in the vast expanse of Bryant Park? Probably to some degree, but I knew nothing was going to happen so I agreed to meet.

He ended up canceling at the last minute. Oh, well -- so much for our illicit Bryant Park rendezvous. Free for the evening, I had dinner with my father and stepmother. When my stepmother asked, "What's new?" I told her about this married guy I had met on a bus ride to Woodstock who seemed to have more than a platonic interest in me. I described what he looked like, mentioned his age and that he got off in New Paltz, and that he had a fancy vintage convertible.

She commented, "Wouldn't it be funny if he were Janet's son?" (My father and stepmother have a house in Connecticut, and Janet is a friend who lives nearby.)

I asked, "What's Janet's son's last name?"

When she cited Derek's last name I shrieked, "Oh, my God -- that's him!" I had been to his parent's home. I had met the family dog!

The next day I sent Derek an e-mail about the crazy, "six degrees of separation" thing between us. I had thought it would make him fast in the opposite direction, but curiously it did nothing to deter his interest.

We met for lunch the following day in Rockefeller Center. When we were chatting on the bus I felt perfectly comfortable, but when I saw him again I felt full of deceit. He was deceiving his wife by meeting me, a girl he wanted to cheat with, and I was deceiving him because I had zero intention of ever sleeping with him. I was just a bit bored and more than a bit mischievous.

At lunch he didn't talk about the situation with his wife, and I didn't ask. It was told to me later in an e-mail: "I've been down the 'work things out' road for quite some time. My feeling now is even if we were able to patch it up and make it bearable, it would never be great. And, unfortunately, I only get one go-around in this world."

So as not to completely lead him on, I did make a point of stating, "It doesn't take great detective work to deduce that you might have inklings of wandering into grounds you shouldn't. If you ever did it wouldn't be with me. I think too highly of myself to knowingly get involved in a bad news, no-win situation." Yet next I teased, "Does this mean it's over between us?"

Once again I thought he would lose interest, but he wasn't so easily swayed. He wrote back, "I hope not!"

Those e-mails were sent on a Friday afternoon. The following Monday morning he dropped me a line to say hello. I poked for trouble when I wrote back, "Feel a tinge of guilt this weekend knowing you've been corresponding with a girl with whom you've had immoral thoughts?"

His reply: "No guilt here. And why is it immoral because I'm dying to see that great bod of yours in the flesh?"

The Sleaze-O-Meter nearly went through the roof after that one, but I got a kick out of it. I mean, aside from catcalls on the street, what girl doesn't like hearing she has a great body? I wrote back, "Because you should be thinking about your wife's bod, not mine. Do you like me just for my body?"

His winner-of-a-response outshone all expectations: "Actually, your body is last on the list. First is your bubbly personality, then your incredible sexuality. Last, but not least, your incredibly intoxicating body." (Some would think my body is nice, but to say it's "intoxicating" is stretching it a tad too far. I'm no Ursula Andress walking out of the water in that James Bond movie, that's for sure.)

I thanked him for his compliments, and then asked, "Do you feel guilty for looking to stray while you're still married."

He had every line down: "As for guilt, only those that do bad things are subject to guilty feelings. I am 100% convinced every person has a right to pursue their own happiness. And I have no guilty feelings about pursuing mine. Actually, you're the first that has really tempted me... Anyway, I understand your position. But I can't shake the feeling that if you really dug me there would be room to work out an understanding between us."

An "understanding"? I think not.

I reiterated that I had no interest in getting involved with a married man. I also wrote, "I hope your wife knows you want out. If she doesn't, she needs to be told. The sooner you start the process the sooner you'll both be able to move forward and get on with your lives. Good luck."

He wrote back, "Thanks. Have a good life."

Two days later, I wrote again: "I just read over our past e-mails. I must admit: I'm guilty of being a tease. Sorry, I didn't mean to mess around with your feelings -- that's the last thing you need." I asked if he would be heading upstate Friday on the five o'clock bus.

He soon wrote back, "I don't think you've been a tease at all. I'm an adult. I know the 'drill.' Really, you are guilty of nothing. I'm the anti-guilt guy... Yep, I'll be on the 5:00. And I've got nothing to do on Saturday. Any interest in a ride in a big convertible?"

To that I replied, "I can't help but feel that seeing you is the wrong thing to do. But running into you on the bus is no problem. See you there." As it turned out we didn't see each other, because the lines were split and we wound up on different buses.

Our e-mail banter continued on Monday. He wrote: "I didn't think of it that way. I thought of it as: I've got a free Saturday, so let me see what my buddy: 1) Rob is doing, 2) Kurt is doing, 3) Laura is doing. No crime no guilt. Now, if we did 'it' there might be some issues. But as far as hanging out and shooting the breeze, no crime there."

I commented, "So now we're 'buddies'? C'mon, do you really think it's possible to be just friends?"

"I have no problem at all hanging out as friends. I can control my libido (strange for aman, eh?). Are you worried you can't control yours (boy am I flattered!)? Maybe it's because I've been through the ringer and got my nose burned that I'm not jumping into anything. We can hang out and have some laughs and some beers, but as far as anything else: Whoa! Let's take itone step at a time."

I could hardly believe this, but who knows -- maybe he's turning over a new leaf and is open to having a new platonic friend? Although skeptical, the next day I sent an e-mail asking if he'd like to meet for lunch sometime soon.

"Sure, why not? Call me whenever is good for you."

A few days later I wrote again. "How about today?"

"Can't do today -- meetings, meetings, meetings. Maybe tomorrow."

Well, guess what? For Derek and me there was no "tomorrow." The once-cascading river of e-mails between us quickly dried up, leaving in its wake a parched riverbed, lined ever so thinly with memories of what was and what could have been. I don't know about him, but I'm not exactly lamenting.

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I was directed to your website by a "friend" of Derek's who thought I might be amused to read a story about someone we knew. How do I know your "Bus Boy" is the same guy I know? Well, actually Derek was the one who told my ex-boyfriend about your site, if you can believe that.

I met Derek about two years ago. I was the girlfriend of one of his co-workers, and we all got together for a drink. I didn't think much about him at first, but in the two years that followed, the stories I was privy to about Derek changed my impression of him entirely.

The stories that came down the pike about Derek's life came directly from Derek himself, and were told to me by my ex-boyfriend. Derek's escapades could very well be the inspiration for one of those bad movies on Lifetime, entitled, "The Diary of a Sex Addict: His Triumphs and Ultimate Demise."

To simply say that Derek is a guy on the prowl for any woman in a skirt would be like saying it snows a lot in the Arctic. He roams the office he works in, and the offices he visits abroad, for any female that will say "yes." His roaming around for new encounters has ultimately killed any potential he has in his company to move ahead. This is because for some inexplicable, self-destructive reason, Derek brags to all the guys about his exploits. His reputation is so well known in several of the different offices abroad as well as in NY, that he is the butt of every office joke and consequently no one takes him seriously, including his superiors. In fact, he has been reprimanded by his superiors to no avail, and has been given a final warning that he is not to "fraternize" with any of the female personnel. There are those among his co-workers who feel his days are numbered because there is little doubt that Derek can "control" himself. This has only served to keep his mouth shut, but alas, not his pants. He continues his prowl though different offices for new encounters, and his co-workers do not feel comfortable working with him when they go abroad. He is truly an embarrassment as a representative for his company and his traveling schedule has been altered considerably because of this.

He is now divorced. His wife found out about one of his affairs in Brazil (had she known about ALL the others, I don't know what she would have done). He now lives "alone" in Manhattan and to combat the "loneliness" he tells his co-workers he suffers acutely from, he utilizes several Internet dating services to supply him with new women to assuage his loneliness. He has bragged to my ex-boyfriend that he dates several different women a week, and has even invited my boyfriend along on a double date!

I don't know why I'm telling you all of this. I guess your story intrigued me, and I thought mine would interest you as well. I suppose one should actually feel sorry for Derek, because I truly believe he has a problem. Perhaps now the "mystery" of why the river of your communication with him dried up has been explained. You had a brain - a criteria that any woman Derek ultimately conquers must not have for his success.

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