39. 4:00 a.m. - 4:30 a.m.

Until recently--say, with my last two lovers--all the sex I've had has been bad. Not even bad, really. It just didn't register. I was either forced or when it was with someone I cared about, or thought I cared about, things were out of place, sloppy. No physical communication.

I think that's why I'm so eager now. I could have turned the other way, shunned it. But I'm empowered because I want it. I don't need it. There's something curious about people who enjoy sex, and remember it, but can keep it at bay.

My worst sex-releated experience? I'd finally gotten up the courage to tell my brother about dad. He was older. He'd understand it. So I go, down the hall, towards his room. The door is ajar. I look inside. He doesn't hear me. He's masturbating. I only knew one other person that did that. I turned and left.

Years later, he confessed to me that he'd taken a purse from Janet Flatch's bedroom. They agreed to meet and he'd surrender himself for the first time to her. Instead, when he was there in her room, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom, "changed into something more comfortable," he realized he had a choice: the purse now or sex soon. To hear him tell it, it wasn't much of a choice. "Besides, I was faking my virginity."º

He grabbed the purse and left. "Quietly," he says. Met his man.º And what could Janet do? She had to keep quiet and he knew it. What explanation could she have for having a 14-year-old boy in her apartment?

The sad thing is that she probably would have given him money for his cherry. She wouldn't be paying him for the fuck, but for going home after the fuck.º

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