Step One is acknowledging I'm powerless against the addiction.  But rather than step up in front of a dozen Marlboro Light-sucking, coffee-swigging strangers in a park or church basement, I will offer my testimony here in front of a dozen Marlboro Light-sucking, coffee-swigging strangers surfing the web.  

            My name is Toby and I'm a Scrabb-aholic.  Let me be clear, while I enjoy a good game of sit-down two-person Scrabble, that enjoyment is not to be confused with my compulsion to engage in the fiendishly efficient Scrabble-delivery system of the online site, isc.ro.  ...which makes my cyber-rehab all the more fitting.

            Yes, the Romanians are stealthily undermining the productivity of the West by offering up endless hours of free online Scrabble.  There, cloistered in some Carpathian fortress, they're sheltered from the machinations of Hasbro's copyright attorneys.  Available in English (American or British), Italian, Romanian, Spanish or Dutch, it poses a serious dilemma for those of us with actual jobs or porn to attend to.  At my most desperate, I am the human version of the rat ceaselessy pressing a lever to release a food pellet or, more accurately, activate a cerebral pleasure center.

            Because, like alcohol, it's a rush.  Unlike alcohol, I won't vomit and pass out after four games, and it's free!  Sure, after several straight losses I'll give up dejectedly and swear off the game forever.  I've dragged the folder into the trash countless times.  Only to download it again a few days later.

            What's the attraction?  For me, Scrabble represents a nasty intersection of geeky puzzle-lust and male competitiveness.  Plus the game itself combines just enough luck (good tile draws) that you just might beat that arrogant prick rated 300 points higher than you.I certainly can't see myself playing World of Warcraft for three days straight, but I get what that's about.  It's not just an escape; there's a thrill and a comfort one gets when ensconced in one's habit.  Win or lose, there's a drive to repeat the experience - to re-create one's mastery or to improve. 

            And so the urge gnaws.  Even now... at the computer... my home computer, where sweet relief is just a few clicks away.  What would it hurt?  Who would know?  In an age of multitasking, writing and playing online Scrabble simultaneously is a piece of cake.  I can take a vow not to.  And I won't... probably... for awhile.  But it's like that lover you can't break up with because the sex is mind-blowing.  So you curse yourself and your weak, self-destructive backsliding, but something in your reptilian brain compels you to seek this out again and again and again.  There is no "bored of this."  Everything else grows wearisome and unsatisfying, but not This.

            Okay, I admit online Scrabble is not as debilitating as the grip of psycho girlfriend sex, but it's far more compelling than a face-to-face game.  Whether I'm playing friends or cranky seniors at the Hollywood Scrabble club, the social interaction is fine, but it's so 1980s.  It's technology that escalates this into an addiction.  Technology the new cosmic co-dependent enabling our addictions. 

            The existential call to effortlessly, infinitely make your mark in the world is impossible to resist:  "I'm at the bank.  I'll call you when I get out of the bank."

            Why did that call NEED to be made?  Because it could.  Why do you NEED to text your vote on which contestant had the best hair?  Because you can.  Why did you need to text back a "k" when your friend texted "gtg"?  Because you could.  We can and we do and can't stop so we don't.  (Quick, you might have gotten an email since you started reading this piece.  Better check.)  I am here.  I am here.  I am here!

            So, there.  I admit it.  I can't quit at anytime.  I am online Scrabble's bitch.  My habit is not one shared by "highly successful people."  I am ashamed in front of Gandhi and Barack Obama and my children.  And the fact that it doesn't impair my driving, deplete my savings or give me emphysema does not make it excusable.

            And I would stop now, but I promised myself a game or five after I finished my article.   

            And you, what do you jones for?  Online or off, is there something you have to see, play or blow up?  Leave your Step One Confessions below.

By Toby Muller