I find it funny--if funny can be an appropriate word in the context of what will surely be a painful and ugly split--that Jesse James is giving up on his sex addiction therapy.

Serial cheater Jesse James reportedly bolted from a sex-addition clinic after his Oscar-winning wife refused to take his phone call, the New York Post reported Monday.

An angry James checked out of the Sierra Tucson treatment center in Arizona because Sandra Bullock, on whom he cheated with several women, apparently wants nothing more to do with him.

If he were truly sorry, if he truly felt that he was an addict, and if he truly wanted to improve his life in a material way, he would finish his stay at the clinic. Instead he realized that the typical template of public apologies, scripted press releases, carefully managed stays in rehab followed up by doing the rounds on the talk show circuit where accepting responsibility means blaming the most convenient addiction wasn’t going to end with reconciliation. I can’t imagine that James has ever cared much about public opinions, so if it wasn’t going to save his marriage, why bother with the play?

After all, I’m sure he’ll find a wealth of tattooed white trash to fill his time. James wasn’t a sex addict; he was just cheating.

I do feel bad for Bullock, though. The shame and embarrassment of publicly dealing with divorce and infidelity isn’t easy under normal circumstances; in a year that should have been the best of her career, she’s instead facing front page stories, lurid pictures, and accusations about her husband that have surely turned that triumph into bitter ash.

Which is why calling the story funny doesn’t feel quite right.

Read the rest.