For me, Christmas is not a time for family and friends, fun or thanksgiving. It is a time for celebrating another conquest. The last four years have presented me with corresponding notches on the bedpost.

In 99 it was Christie, the eighteen year old with bad breath and residual acne. The new millennium brought Georgina, the rich girl with two cars and three horses. I spent the 2001 Christmas time with Tracey, the common bird with one car and three screaming kids. Last year was the best though. Katie was beautiful, a real gem. She worked with disabled people or something like that, really nice girl.

They all had a lot of things in common. They were attractive, single and needy. Just the kind of thing I look for.

They were also generous. As if scripted, each "girlfriend" would sit me down and ask what I want for Christmas.

"Oh, don't be silly." I would say, "I just want you for Christmas." This sweet remark only fuelled the passion. I would then arrange for a day out shopping, which I know all the girls love to do. After numerous shoe shops, I might spot a nice watch in the window of the jewellers. "That's nice." I would say as we passed. It's a great feeling to know that the woman will be back in that same shop the next day.

Four years and four great presents. I got a pendant from Christie, a set of golf clubs from the rich one. Tracey got me a playstation 2, which I'm sure was originally intended for her eldest son. Again, best of all was Katie, who spent her savings on a laptop computer. Not bad for a set of short term relationships!

The other thing these women had in common was that they were back to being single before the New Year. I usually like to end it on the 29^th, and dramatise the whole event to the best of my ability. I surprise myself sometimes with Oscar-worthy performances, usually consisting of words to the effect of:

"This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do."

Yesterday, the plan for 2003 fell apart in style.

Lorraine, my girl for this year, knocked unexpectedly on the door at about 2pm. This annoyed me as my daytime television was being rudely interrupted. She looked nice but also a little unhappy. She took a seat on the couch and looked up at me.

"You said you would call me today."

"I know baby, I was about to do, just as soon as-"

"Who's that?" She asked, having stood up and walked over to the cabinet. She picked up the framed photograph that I usually hid before visits from girlfriends. She examined it closely while the colour faded from her pretty face.

"That's my wife." I said, almost in a whisper.

"You're married?"

"Not any more."

"I can't believe you haven't told me about this. How could you be so-"

"She drowned." I said, again with little volume. "It will be five years ago on the 29^th"

Lorraine placed the photo back on the cabinet and walked back over to me.

"Honey, I'm so sorry." She said, with beautiful eyes. Out of all of my girls, Lorraine has been the one that reminded me most of my late wife. A tear crept from the corner of her eye.

After a long pause and a heavy sigh, she looked back at me.

"Listen, this is the hardest thing I have ever had to do..."