All of my life I have been a teller of tales. I can weave a story like few people I know. I remember several times throughout my childhood when I made up stories about my parents or some random relative that astounded my social group, amazed my friends, and solidified other peoples opinion of my expertise. Often, when I was feeling unpopular or invisible, I would come up with some anecdote to boost my popularity; to make me be seen. The thing is, that over time I had to maintain these fabrications and exaggerations as truths, and eventually they became just that. My truths. To the point where I cannot remember what the embellishments were. As I got older (high school) the need to make up these stories reduced. I became myself and had some pretty awesome experiences and so the stories became less and less necessary.

Now, from time to time, I do still make up stories, but mostly for my kids. To help them understand different usually moral issues. It is often easier to tell a story in order to get ideas across. And this ability has worked very well for me in that context.

A few months ago I ended a 14month relationship. There were of course issues in the relationship. One issue was of intimacy. I am very physical. I like to kiss and cuddle and hug and wrestle and such. My partner did not share these inclinations. Several times and throughout the relationship I brought it to her attention that I was in need of affection. In need of intimacy. And when this issue was not resolved, among others, the relationship ended, and I began to be intimately involved with other women. In the last week, rumors have started flying about me having cheated on her, and I was instantly angered by this. But then a friend of mine brought it to my attention that I had been intimate with her during my now ended relationship.

I didn't remember.

According to her, we had been intimate every couple of months. Even in the apartment that I shared with my girlfriend.

And I didn't remember.

I remembered all of the details around these encounters. Trips to the gym. Lunches. Doing yard work for her folks. But I had no memory of having intercourse with her. I remembered the times before and after my relationship just fine, but nothing during my relationship. But how could that be?

It's as though the ability to generate a lie and believe it into truth has also given me the ability to take the truth and convince myself that it did not happen. I suppose in little ways I've always done it, and so I can't say it's not normal. But I know that it isn't healthy. And now the potential for having any sort of friendship with my ex is nonexistent.

Is this a disorder? Am i just selfish? Is this happening to anyone else? It's very difficult to talk about this with my friends. They are quick to call me a 'Player' and applaud the cheating behavior. I am not. I am disgusted by it. I know how I felt and feel about my ex. She is amazing and I love her. I understand I have to move on. But I am terrified that this same behavior with crop up in my next relationship. Help!? Has anyone had to deal with this?