I began thinking about men at an early age. I liked them almost immediately. They are big and strong, seemingly indomitable. I sometimes fantasized about being one, you know, having a flap of skin that grows big and strong whenever I spied a cunt or a pair of tits. But mostly I just wanted to control them. To be the master of their affections and have them worship my naked body, sticking me and pleasing me with their erections. Every cock is like a totally unique masterpiece, and I'm a huge fan of uniqueness. The cock is the coolest part of the entire human anatomy, with the possible exception of the tongue.

My dad was an Englishman and a gentleman. He tells me that family is more important than friends and that private is more sacred than public. When I was a girl he would caress me under my little dress. I never thought it was dirty or weird. I guess I assumed all men did these things (and maybe they do?) because my uncles did it to me as well. Even my brother used to sexually assault me in his youth but he died in a an automobile accident when I was 15. I cried for a week and my mother went insane. Maybe she always was insane but I just started to realize it then.

My brother's death left us a broken family and our bond suffered heavily from the loss. He would have been a great friend in times of need. My parents sent me to an LA psychiatrist. He gave me MDMA pills to open me up and I turned into a raver  girl. I stole a bottle of them and turned on my high and we started a party scene in the San Francisco Bay until we got busted. I went back to the psychologists and then I told them all about my sexual history and that's when I found out I wasn't normal. Not as normal as they wanted me to be anyway, the pricks.

Who really believes that anyone could give a fuck about other people's lives anyway? The whole field of Psychology is a fucking joke, a defense against human feeling.

When I was a girl and people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up I never knew what to say. But when I saw that one movie, The Scarlet Letter, I wanted to be a whore and have a letter on my forehead so there wouldn't be a lot of confusion. I never wanted to actually BE a prostitute but getting paid for sex has always been a special kind of fantasy for me. I have never done it, except once with a professor whom I fucked for an 'A' in an Ethics class. I never went to class so I guess I kind of owed it to him. It wasn't so bad because I made him shower and use breath mints and a condom and all. I rather enjoyed it and it gave me a new respect for academia. The professors weren't all that haughty-taughty and were actually just like us normal people beneath the pompous airs and PhD's. All's well that ends well is what the party people say and I say 'right on' to that philosophy.

I met my first true love Victor in a pub in Boston when I was 18. I was sipping a pint of bitter and pretending to read Jane Austen when I spied him and his gorgeous friend Gert-Jan reading about the Happy Mondays in NME and acting cool. Nobody is actually cool in Boston and so I knew they were from out of town.

Victor told me he was from Los Angeles. He was actually from Indiana, but I didn't find that out until later. I immediately wanted to add him to my list of the conquered, but it was him that conquered me when he cried pitifully after we had sex and nearly burned my house down afterwards smoking a post shag joint.

He said I was the most beautiful and pure person he had ever met. He went down on me and stayed there for what seemed like hours.  He said the taste of most vaginas made him puke but I tasted like canned lychees. He called me pure again and said I was a goddess sent from the heavens to awaken his dormant passion. He said he previously only fucked out of animal heat and never out of true love before. He asked me if I felt the same way about him, if I loved him.

I didn't want to disrupt his young alcohol-induced notions of reality so I told him it was true and sucked him hard again and let him fuck me in the ass so he would feel like a king. Life is so pleasant when you are young and drunk. An afternoon can last an eternity and a weekend can last a lifetime.

He said we would never get married but would live together as one being from that day forward and nothing would ever tear us apart. We did live together for quite a while too. Traveled all over Europe and indulged in drugs and partied with the ravers of England and France.

But after a while he started getting depressed and seemed to lose that edge he had when I first met him. Maybe it was the pills was he popping like candy in Amsterdam. Maybe it was the repressive nature of American society catching up with him. His hometown was full of such losers that it made even dreary Boston look hip. They would work all week in cubicles and then watch sports on television during the weekends.

Victor seemed preoccupied in his own daydream world of fiction. He had this fantasy about spaceships landing and him being the last human being on Earth and wandering around naked and alone amongst the post-nuclear rubble. He was a weird one, Victor, my first love, and my only confidante. I always knew that no matter what I did he would understand. His favorite quote was "Never overestimate the intelligence of another human being."

To this day I never have.