
“Well, that year my boyfriend broke up with me, and I decided—oh man; sorry, Mommy!—that I was in love with this girl that worked at the Body Shop [a strip club on Sunset Boulevard]. I decided that I was going to get her to love me back, and I went out of my way to create a relationship with this girl, a stripper named Nikita. I was there all the time—I would go there by myself. I bought her things—perfume, body spray, girlie stuff. I turned into a weird middle-aged married man. I felt like I had this need to save Nikita. I’d get lap dances so I could get to know her, and I’d give her what I thought were great little sound bites of inspiration—like You can do it, you’re better than this! I didn’t want her to be there.”
“She smelled like angels.”
“No. Well, she did smell good. Like vanilla. She was sort of a tough badass, but she’d do these beautiful slow dances to Aerosmith ballads. She had really long stick-straight hair and was Russian. I just liked her. She was really sadistic and sarcastic and funny.”
“Not very long. You know when you’re pushing something and it escalates much too rapidly and it explodes after only two weeks?”
“Look, I’m not a lesbian—I just think that all humans are born with the ability to be attracted to both sexes. I mean, I could see myself in a relationship with a girl—Olivia Wilde is so sexy she makes me want to strangle a mountain ox with my bare hands. She’s mesmerizing. And lately I’ve been obsessed with Jenna Jameson, but.… Oh boy.”
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