I met Monique at her family reunion in northern Canada. I had been doing enough of this synthetic morphine that I kept waking up in odd places—the foot of my bed, the hallway, the middle of the street, a construction site—so I was up there to get clean and get my head together. When I walked by the tent that was hosting Monique’s family reunion, she came right up to me and, assuming I was a relative, introduced herself and kissed me on both cheeks. She was around my age, thin and pretty with big brown eyes. more

My soul shrivels when I recall a dark moment from my youth. I was diligently manhandling the pussy of a lithe, redheaded aerobics instructor when she drew a breath and laid one of her hands on mine. “Um. What do you think you’re doing?” she asked sincerely. I recall being frustrated by her naiveté and her ignorance about her own body. “Dude, shut up,” I said. “That’s your G-spot!” That was the first time I experienced the curious sensation of a girl’s body convulsing with laughter from the inside. I was 21: old enough to drink, smoke and die in an oil war in a faraway corner of the globe, but unable to master the smallest (and most vital) piece of female geography. more

“Dude? Seriously, if you would just hold still for one second, I swear to God, I can almost get this fish’s eyeball in your butthole.” more