On some level, I understood that Nondescript represented my last shot at holding my barely contained sexual beast at bay. I clung to the idea that we could be a real couple with unvarnished desperation. But in the long stretches between our rare phone calls and even rarer face-to-face conversations, I began building my life.
I went to psychotherapy and started taking antidepressants. Over night, my diary went from a tear-stained collection of laments to a catalog of things I was doing to make my dreams come true. I negotiated a raise at my draining job. I pursued my acting career. I took yoga classes and swimming lessons.
Most importantly, I started reading and working with the exercises in The Artist's Way, a book that changed my life. One of the exercises was to write about people I secretly admired. I scribbled:
- Bad girls: For f*cking when, where & who they want to f*ck; wearing revealing clothing; smoking & drinking; fighting & cussing. Being real & telling the world to go to hell.
- Good girls: For having genuine faith in God, genuine happiness. For being virtuous by choice, selfless by nature. For being everything that is stable and right in the world.
But one thing was clear. Good or bad, I was not going to continue being achingly lonely and sex-deprived.
There was one last date, one last round of mixed signals, one last humiliation as I begged for sex. This time, I clearly heard the Voice Within say, "Goodbye." I immediately tried to pretend I didn't hear, but this time, there was no turning back.
Four days later, an actor I met at a film-shoot rehearsal casually called me a freak.
His comment kicked off a flurry of terrified, confused, defiant and excited diary entries:
- "What does it mean to be a freak? I am tired of pretending to be a respectable woman. If a complete stranger can see that, if I know it inside, why am I still holding on?"
- "I feel Wild Woman coming out to play, and boy is she scary. She is very libidinous, very horny. She wants to pick fights & kick ass. She wants to tell the boss & the working world to go to hell, she wants to f*ck any man that moves. I'm afraid of her. I don't know how much room I'll give her."
- "A freak. A freak. It's ringing in my ears because I know it's true. I enjoy & crave & want sex. I have very, very few limits. I sometimes think I might even be bisexual. I've never felt attracted to a woman, but is it because I've never allowed it?"
And within days, I opened my legs to the man who freed my freak from her self-imposed cage.
I'd actually met him six weeks before and had initially rebuffed his advances.
You see, I knew he was trouble.
I also knew he was married.
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