Seems like everybody’s having sex but me. Good for them. It’s not that I’m against sex. I mean, it was clever of God or evolution or whatever to hook the survival of the species to it because we’re gonna screw around no what. It was a smarter thing to pick than say… the instinct to share your toys or return phone calls. We’d have died out like eons ago. But on the minus side, god… all the *attachment* that goes with it. It’s like this net. Sex always ends in kids or disease, or like, you know, relationships. That’s exactly what I don’t want. I want the opposite of all that. Because it’s not worth it, not really, is it? When you think about it? OK, so maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s not all shit. Maybe… God damn it. I thought the whole idea was I know what happens next. I’ll tell you one thing… I’m not gonna go back to Bill’s house and be this big changed person for you. I told you right off I don’t grow a heart of gold. And if I do, which is, like, so unlikely, give me a break and don’t make me do it in front of you. Come on, guys, go, okay? Go! I’ll give you this much, though: I never was the same again after that summer.
The Opposite of Sex, Dede Truitt