MOG

Tracks 1, 2 & 3: Facing The Consequences Ooh, Baby Baby (Smokey Robinson & The Miracles) I Threw It All Away (Bob Dylan) See That Girl (The Righteous Brothers)

The first voice you hear should be Smokey Robinson's. This is true for everyone in almost all circumstances (set your CD alarm to "Going To A Go-Go" and wake up feeling invincible), but particularly in this case. "I did you wrong/My heart went out to play/And in the game I lost you/What a price to pay" are the opening lines of "Ooh, Baby Baby." Commit them to memory. The rest of the song is one anguished sigh of despair, a plea for forgiveness. You do not want to feel like this.

"Once I had mountains/In the palm of my hands," and we all know how that feels. This is Dylan at his most forthright and vulnerable. And wise. He treated her "like a fool," and he is wallowing in regret. He wants us to learn from his experience, addressing the listener (you, in this instance) personally: Don't make this mistake.

The label says "The Righteous Brothers," but it's really just Bill Medley, brokenhearted, pointing out to us the girl that got away. "Ain't she somethin'?" he asks. He went and blew it, and it's the saddest thing you've ever heard. Imagine thinking of the woman you love, screwing things up, and seeing her in the street with another lucky guy.

Tracks 4, 5 & 6: Sneaking Around Dark End Of The Street (James Carr, Elvis Costello, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Aretha, et al.) Smoky Places (The Corsairs) Me and Mr. Jones (Kelly Willis)

The great thing about "Dark End Of The Street," aside from its being the quintessential soul ballad about the furtive paranoia of the clandestine affair, is that there's a version for every musical mood. Clarence Carter turns it into a five-minute monologue, Aretha rears back and wails it, Gram Parsons, with the Burritos, gives it a plaintive twang. James Carr's take is probably the definitive one, but no matter which you pick (Ry Cooder, Joe Tex, Percy Sledge, Richard Thompson), by the time the bridge ("They're gonna find us!") comes around, you'll feel as cornered as the lovers hiding in the shadows.

The Corsairs only had this one hit single, and it sounded like a Drifters outtake, but like "Dark End," it points out the hazards of the secret rendezvous. As though cheaters don't have enough to worry about, what with the terrible guilt, and possibility of discovery and all, there's that pervasive secondhand smoke.

I almost didn't put this song on the playlist, because Kelly Willis can make even the most risky behavior sound sexy. The famous Billy Paul hit is a little loungey for my taste, but Willis's countrified gender-reversal is a classic tale of love on the sly. Her voice might not work as aversion therapy, but the narrative has a simple, scary power.

Tracks 7, 8 & 9: Cautionary Tales Working My Way Back To You (Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons) Yield Not To Temptation (Bobby "Blue" Bland) 24 Hours From Tulsa (Gene Pitney)

"When you were so in love with me/I played around like I was free." The Four Seasons were tortured by everything: class distinctions, ideas of masculinity, love gone sour. For more Seasons angst, leave room on your iPod for songs from my forthcoming book, "Walk Like A Man: The Guy's Guide To Breakups." For now, go with this psychobabbling mea culpa: "I used to love to make you cry/It made me feel like a man inside/But if I'd been a man in reality/You'd still be here, babe, loving me."

The incredible soul singer Bobby "Blue" Bland sings this song to his woman, telling her to be faithful while he's away. "You gotta be strong/Leave all the other guys alone." This is going to become your personal anthem. It's rousing secular-gospel with an unambiguous message: "Let no one lead you astray." When you're staying in a hotel in a strange town, you should be singing this in the shower.

This is what happens when a man is on the road, and he lets his guard down. Here's how the story goes, as Gene Pitney tells it in a letter to the woman he left behind: He's on his way home from some trip of unspecified purpose. With a day left on his journey, he stops for a night's sleep, gets distracted by a woman whom he casually asks for a restaurant recommendation. She joins him for dinner, it leads to dancing and, apparently, back to his hotel room. He never makes it back to Tulsa. In fact, he can "never, never, never go home again." Those are the last words of the song. Need I say more? It should scare you but good.

Tracks 10, 11 & 12: O.J.'s Mixtape Delilah (Tom Jones) Run For Your Life (The Beatles) Your Funeral, My Trial (Sonny Boy Williamson)

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," the defense attorney might have said, "my client was in a deranged state. He had recently been listening obsessively to the Tom Jones album Live In Las Vegas, and he began to believe the song 'Delilah' was sending messages directly to his brain." The subject of jealousy-provoked violence has been a staple of country and blues, and most of the songs end with the cuckolded man going berserk: "I felt the knife in my hand/And she laughed no more." In this era of more gender equality, let's use these songs as a lesson to you: cheat, and that knife might be in her hand.

"I'd rather see you dead, little girl/Than to be with another man." John Lennon, genius though he was, had a few issues when it came to depicting sexual relations. On track 3 of Rubber Soul, "Norwegian Wood," he cryptically depicts an extramarital affair (he slept in the bath? really?). Get to the final track (14, on the original U.K. version), and he's telling his girlfriend that if he catches her with another man, that's the end. He doesn't mean simply the end of the relationship. Jump cut to a few years later, post-Beatles, and he's apologizing for being a "Jealous Guy." A little late, if you ask me.

It's not clear exactly what the offending behavior might be. Williamson merely requests that his woman "cut out that off the wall jive," and that if he isn't treated better, it's going to be her funeral and his trial. I'm going to assume that this provocation probably doesn't involve burning the roast, or hogging the remote. Whatever it is, he's plenty mad. For this playlist, I wish there were a version by, say, Etta James or Ruth Brown (if there is, please let me know), but I'm including it as a lesson in how acting disrespectfully can result in severe retaliation.