For years I confused sex and love. I thought that the more sex you had, the more you were loved. I thought that I would be loved more, if I just had endless sex. But it doesn’t really work like that.

I never felt like that about my books or my art. If you don’t like it, that’s not the same as not liking me.

For years I didn’t love my self. Sex helped a bit. People liking my art, my texts, my cock, it did help. It still does help. Sometimes. Not every time I’m feeling down. But sometimes.

Anyways, husbands to be; I don’t know how to love you.