‘What kind of life is that and what kind of relationship?’ I asked her. It was not a relationship—it was shamanism. Think of it from my point of view, I’d say: What did she imagine I’d get out of such an arrangement? To have her healed by an hour of my presence—it was unreal. Was this a relationship? No! We weren’t being real with each other; she was using me as an icon. And her obsession with sucking me and swallowing my sperm. Same thing. Unreal. She felt empty and wanted me to fill her up with my essence. Couldn’t she see what she was doing, couldn’t she see the error in treating the
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