Do you really need another?

Sometimes (more frequently than I would like) a coin comes along that I am helpless to resist against all good sense. Despite the fact that I already have one of its perfectly adequate siblings in my collection -- same year, same mint, same grade (and in the most frustrating of circumstances, even with comparable eye appeal), the new discovery is just too seductive to ignore. My rational inner voice does the best it can -- tells me I don't really need it. There are still blank spots to fill, why am I even looking at something I already have? "You already have a 1945 Philadelphia mint MS 65," it says. "Keep your britches on until something comes along that you actually need."

There is, after all, always another beautiful coin just around the corner. Always.

But that rational, logical voice -- the oft under appreciated, responsible parent side of my brain -- just isn't as sexy as the other voices. It has credibility but no sway against those OCD, irrational, eager, demanding collector glutton voices that bounce up and down, poking me in the back of the eyes, insisting: "Look! Look how pretty! This one is here now! We can get it now!" For some coins, all those chaotic hedonistic little voices will even cheat and join forces in all their spoiled brat splendor, harmonizing into an Andy Serkis-esque whimper to offer a cliched Gollum battle cry of "The precious...we wants it! Look at it you fool! This is your one and only chance to own it! There's not another one like it! If you let it get away you'll always regret it!"

So the battle begins. Sure, there are no wizards or hobbits, but simply the weakness of men. Well, at least one man. Me. I rationalize; I agonize. I pour through a seemingly endless series of prudent denials -- all quickly and loudly countered by the bratty, irrational rebuttals of my inner teenager.

"Just two weeks ago you stretched your budget to its limits buying that 1918 you just had to have."

"Yes, but that was two whole weeks ago! It's been forever since then!"

"Another purchase right now is just not warranted or wise."

"So what? What's the worst than can happen? We're not going to miss any meals or get booted from home. I don't even like this place that much anyway and I'm not hungry..."

"We make budgets for good reasons."

"They're all stupid reasons. Look! Pretty! Pretty! Shiny! Pretty! Want! Want! Want!"

I've walked the earth for 70-plus years, but when these situations come up, I might as well be Ralphie Parker mooning over a Red Ryder BB gun with a compass in the stock and a thing that tells time.

Of course the naughty truth is that I don't really need any of them. My inclinations and manner of collecting isn't about need or smart investment. It's all about want. In fact, when I find myself in the midst of such self-imposed turmoil, the line that goes through my head is in the voice of Martin Sheen from an episode of Aaron Sorkin's "The West Wing." In the scene, Sheen is amusingly chastised by his wife, recalling how he unfairly sought the affection of their children with candy when they were young. "You bought their love," she insists with a wry smile. And Sheen's response is unrepentant: "it was for sale and I wanted it." So I look over coin auctions and sale sites, with the same misguided desire. They are for sale and I want them.

Some might argue that fretting over which coins to buy and calculating how much to pay for them is part of the fun and the strategy of "the game" of collecting. But I find it is a special flavor of agony. Honest-to-goodness agony by the according-to-Hoyle definition:

Agony (n): extreme and generally prolonged pain; intense physical or mental suffering. Synonyms: 1. anguish, torment, torture (see pain). 2. paroxysm.

Antonyms: 1. comfort, ease, pleasure.

Fun... no. Game... no. But no one said everything pleasurable or satisfying in life is a process of fun and games (In fact, I think that's rule of life #4, just after "no one said life is fair," "you can't take it with you," and something about death and taxes).

That is the reality of these situations for me, due to the type of collector I am and the character my collection obsession takes. And, if I am truthful, it is the same whether I am struggling with coins or art or anything else I am passionate about. The heart wants what the heart wants and it will go to extreme lengths to attain and satisfy its desires.

Even if such desire is merely a pretty little circle of metal winking at me over my Internet connection.