I have been a serious and dedicated monger for almost half a century.
I’ve spent more money than I can (or want) to remember in dens of depravity on every continent except Antarctica. My spending patterns evolved over the decades, starting low in my early years but ramping up as my career and disposable income increased.
Why did I waste my money this way? It’s not easy to explain. I had more than enough luck with women in my life, so “paying to play” was not really essential. But “disposable women” (use ‘em once and throw ‘em away) seemed so much easier, cheaper and safer than the alternatives. Plus, it was usually plenty of fun.
But not everyone who can afford to spend big bucks on an endless series of nude therapeutic personal encounters with desploogination service professionals wastes as much money as I did.
I honestly never kept an account of what I spent chasing my dirty desploogination dreams through the seamy undersides of world cities. But having given this some serious thought, I conservatively estimate that my expenditures in this area easily total well in excess of $150,000 and could very plausibly exceed a quarter of a million dollars. Using inflation-adjusted dollars I’m sure my total now exceeds a quarter of a million.
I will let you decide for yourself whether I am bragging or confessing to a horrendous character flaw. But just to put things in perspective, I often sneer derisively and look down my ample nose at men in pickup trucks who appear to have spent more money on their oversized tires than they spent on their education.
But at least they have some oversized truck tires to show for their extravagance. All I have are lurid memories that I will never be able to share in polite company.
While I hope that my son can someday afford extravagant bad habits as well as I can, I sincerely hope that he is far more intelligent than I ever was.

