Since you will get to know him better than you might want, enjoyment of “I Am a Sex Addict” will depend a lot on how well you like Caveh Zahedi, who created this ode to his own sexual misadventures. In his case, perhaps tolerate him is a better way to put it. Zahedi — wiry, high-strung, with a deportment that might best be described as vibrating — is in your face through the lens of the movie camera during most of this film, and he looks as if one of his eyeballs might accidentally spring out as he tells his convoluted story of sexual obsession.

It begins with a scattershot account of how we got to Zahedi’s addicted present: early experimentation, followed by a heavy course load in college, a soul mate, then the years of sex obsession. This is where Zahedi believes his love life diverges from the norm, becoming torn between at least two love interests and a number of Parisian hookers. His movie diverged from the norm long ago, in a series of flashbacks, charts, still photographs, animation, and real and recreated footage.

The spastic Zahedi will be narrating along in the first person, past tense, when he tells us, “then something really weird happened!” We jump to the past, Zahedi addressing the camera in the present tense, corneas bulging: “OK, something really weird just happened.”

Zahedi has taken a more liberal approach than a traditional first-person documentary, reconstructing his life using actors and faked scenes as a fictional movie would. He’s less Ross McElwee and more Woody Allen, at least in style. And kind of like the movies, his fakery tends to improve things. But faked or not — do we care that Zahedi was forced to sleep with dozens of French prostitutes? Is that something he’s really concerned about? The likely answer is found all over this bouncy movie. “I Am a Sex Addict” is a bawdy and sometimes funny entertainment, but if it documents anything it’s that some people’s egos know no bounds. S