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reason is my dad.”  He gave her a strange look and
she shook her head, “And that is why I never really explain my motives.” 
     
    She sipped from her glass
before continuing.  “My mother died almost eight years ago.  When I say I was
lucky, I’m not kidding.  My dad is fantastic; my mom was strong but feminine. 
Everyone loved her and took her death hard.  But my father, he absolutely fell
apart.  His health suffered, his shipping business started slipping, and he
couldn’t bounce back.  My mother’s best friend stepped in and held everything
together.  An old neighbor, two years after she passed, told me she didn’t
understand it because men weren’t emotional like women.  Why didn’t he just get
back up on the saddle and find someone new?  It infuriated me. 
     
    “First, because she had
always had a thing for my father and I guess she was irritated she hadn’t been
slipped into the role of his second wife.  Second, because my father wasn’t
some callous person who could just ‘get over’ twenty years of marriage and the
sudden and painful death of his wife.  When his drinking started, I wanted to
know how to help him.  He deserved help…he needed empathy not stereotypes.  He
eventually started carefully inserting himself back in the world.  It sucked
for all of us.  At first, he thought there was a chance of replacing Mom.  He’d
bring home women he thought were ‘perfect’ and none of those closest to him could
see the draw. 
     
    “Then, when the cold reality
hit home he wasn’t going to find another Mom, he brought home younger women to
satisfy the physical – and very real – need he had without committing anything
emotional to the bargain.  He’s a good looking man.  Successful in life and
business.  He satisfies the only true need he still has, to his way of
thinking.  He’s the perfect gentleman, he doesn’t lie or date more than one at
a time.  Some thought they were going to stay, but I could usually tell which
ones would last a night or a week.  Never usually longer.”
     
    Sean added cheese, folded
the omelet, and turned to face her.  “I’m most like your father, aren’t I? 
It’s why you chose me.”  His look was grim.  “I don’t know if I’m flattered or
insulted.”
     
    “Before you jump to
conclusions, let me say this: my father is the single most wonderful man I’ve
ever met in my life.  He’s kind, funny, loyal, and true.  There are few better
to be compared to, I can assure you.  The sexual drive in men is considered
more pronounced than in women.  I want to understand where that stereotype
comes from and in what way emotions affect the sexual habits of the typical
man.  The general opinion is that men can’t bear to go without sex while the
majority of women need an emotional component involved.”
     
    One eyebrow arched, “You
already used yourself as a subject, didn’t you?  How long did you submit to
self-enforced celibacy?”
     
    “Far too long.  Where most
women probably would have been fine, I suffered.  My last sexual relationship
was almost three years ago.  I’m telling you it hurt.  At first, it wasn’t
intentional.  I broke up with the college boyfriend and decided to take a break. 
After six months, I was going through serious withdrawals and thought about a
casual hookup.  Then I had the idea to use my current single state as part of
my dissertation and it made the situation worse…once I denied myself sex, it
was all I thought about.  But I did it.  I had chances and I let them just slip
away.  I bought every toy and DVD sold online and hoped it would pass.  I was
scared I’d forget what little I knew.”
     
    A sharp exhale and a small
shake of his head before he murmured quietly, “No.  Issue.  There.  You are
phenomenal.”  Sean plated the food and set it on the bar, coming around to join
her, forks in hand.  He stopped as if he’d hit something.  She instinctually
looked behind