I had never lain in bed next to a man and wanted to feel absorbed into his body, like a kit into the uterine wall of a rabbit—a gross metaphor, but love is rife with body parts, with wet hearts and thudding rib cages and heaving bosoms and salty loins and velvety genitals. You can’t have erotic love without the rank grittiness of dirty bodies, and bodies, like desires, are disgusting.
