Once I’d removed the chains (or so I thought) of my inhibitions, I made terrible sexual decisions. Inhibitions stop you from doing things like going home with a man you’ve just met in a nightclub, who may or may not have a penchant for killing and taxidermy-ing the women he takes home. Inhibitions stop you from taking your clothes off when you don’t even know a man’s last name. Inhibitions say, ‘Hey, maybe don’t do that’ when you are about to go house-party-hopping with two dubious men, simply because you’re not done drinking.
