A funny thing has been happening to me ever since Lauren and I got back together nearly a month ago. Every time I see an attractive woman, I remind myself that I already have a woman, a most attractive one, as well, and that I do not want any other, attractive or not. Every time I spot a becoming bum, I have to stop myself from checking the legs, too, and remind myself that both the bum and the legs are simply irrelevant to me. I am annoyed by my roving eyes. But I am even more annoyed by the way I see all women, including those who are far from attractive. I see them as playthings, mine or someone else’s. And I keep reminding myself that women are human beings rather than playthings. It does not matter whether or not they are attractive, I keep reminding myself. God knows what other qualities they have. The funny thing is that I have never noticed any of this before. That is, I have never noticed that there is anything peculiar, let alone untoward, in my attitude toward women. I have lived in complete innocence of my attitude, obvious as it has been. It took falling in love again, and in earnest, for all this to come to the surface. It took falling in love with my own woman to discover women, all women.