Tracey Emin: My Life in a Column

At the grand old age of 42, I've learnt I can't have everything I want (apart from sleep)

Sleeping, dreaming, News 24, Egypt, Istanbul - I just couldn't get out of bed. Four pints of Robinson's barley water, Docket having to survive on Supersnacks. I'd like to blame it on Mick Jones and celebrating his 50th birthday, but I can't.

You see, I've been falling asleep all over London this week. First, it was the Rivington Bar & Grill, where I apparently miaowed a few times, and then passed out at the table, because they hadn't brought my fish fingers.

At the Berkeley Square Ball (where I was the only women wearing trousers), a friend politely asked: "Tracey, do you mind if I smoke?". I spent the next half hour ranting and raving about the consequences of smoking - then bang! My head was on the table. And my swansong was to curl up, all cosy and comfy, without a care in the world, at the very sophisticated and stylish Sketch.

Replacement therapy

Galileo, I think I've got it. The reason I drink so much is because I get bored out of my tiny brains, so I get out of my brain. I'm quite smart, but obviously no academic. But I've set myself a regime - it's a mental replacement programme.

Ideally, I would have liked to replace the drink with either sex or driving. But at the grand old age of 42, one thing I've learnt by failing my driving test is that just because I want something doesn't mean I can have it. Anyway, back to my mental replacement programme. I must: a) read one book a week; b) swim a minimum five times a week (if depressed, swim for extra half an hour); c) cycle at least 20km a week; d) go to cinema or theatre once a week; e) turn all my sexual energy into art.

Busy, busy, busy. Of course, I know I can do all of these with a drink in my hand or a drink in my body.

But do you know what? If I'd passed my driving test, the first place I would have driven is Longleat.

Sometimes, in the morning, when I want to give myself a treat, Docket and I watch Animal Park in bed. This morning, there was this pack of wolves. Did you know that the only wolves to mate at any one time are the alpha wolves? This is so the whole pack protects the cubs, and what is so lovely is that the alpha wolves bond and stay together for the rest of their lives. This morning, there were three wolves pregnant. But let's forget that, the Animal Park people couldn't explain that either. I know just how that alpha wolf feels.

The bleeding truth

I have never never, ever, ever known any man to be faithful to me. Have you ever found someone you love in bed with someone else? God, it's a killer. What I did was sit by the side of the bed and told them how weak they were, and chainsmoked their cigarettes, and left them in a puff of smoke.

Mind you, when I did leave the building, I had a nosebleed that was so bad strangers wanted to call an ambulance. Call it sad, but it's the truth. Oh, I wonder why that is. Maybe it's because I'm too busy to be fucked every day. Maybe it's because I spend months out of the country. Maybe I just can't meet anyone international enough. Or maybe I'm just shit in bed.

One of my favourite ex-boyfriends, who for the purposes of this story I will refer to as F, always clamed to be faithful to me. And F is pretty cool because he doesn't lie. He has spine-chilling integrity, and that's why he's still one of my best friends.

Back in the good old days when we were a couple, he turned up at my flat around 6pm. He was his normal self, apart from the fact that he had this whacking great big lovebite on his neck, and his ear looked like it had been bitten to pieces. I summoned all the gods, braced myself and said really calmly: "Froggy, why have you got a lovebite on your neck?".

He went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, put his hand on his neck and said: "Oh Jesus, it looks terrible. I didn't tell you, did I? I was walking down Wardour Street and I decided to take a short cut to my brother's office, As I cut through the NCP car park, the barrier came down, scraped my ear and landed on my neck." At which point, I put my arms around him and said: "Aw, are you okay?".

Every time I tell this story, eyes roll, and F and I always have a really good laugh about it. But the joke's on me. I hate my monogamy as much as I hate my drinking. Some days, I wake up and I think I want to fuck the world. And I suppose, in my own sweet way, I do.