“I LOVE YOU !!!” she screamed. “I LOVE YOU!!!” (“You want to destroy me! she screamed”) BE CAREFUL !




Be careful when someone you don’t know – but who has known you thru the media – tells you, just like that: “I LOVE YOU”.

Sounds odd at first.

Sounds a little less odd when you hear it again and again.

And when, you finally meet, you fuck. Yes, and sex is – well….it’s not as great as you initially imagined but….she’s gorgeous so…you think (it’ll get better).

She’s a gorgeous junkie. A typically complicated, adoptee who….rejects the notion of being loved herself so….”I LOVE YOU” comes as automatically as….. “YOU WANT TO DESTROY ME !!!”

Yes, she needs to be destroyed. That’s what she believes. And nobody better than the person she determines is her “loved one” to, well, be her destroyer.

Well, she’s made up of many parts, almost unreal. A friend of mine who saw a picture of her via email, noticed it at once. “She’s unreal !”, he said. Yes, she is.

Silicone breasts, collagen implants on her lips, weirdly enhanced cheekbones….a little botox here, some botox there….obviously colored hair (though she denies it), she is gorgeous but WHAT part is real ?

Oh yes, there is an awkwardness when it comes to the way she handles life: “I WANT” “I WANT”


That’s it, Gerald. She thinks and feels and acts like a child.

She’s not fully emotionally grown up yet, though she’s almost 40 years old.

She does, somehow, look like a robot. A little too perfect to be believed and…. A bit too defective to be handled. So….what’s the result of this “I LOVE YOU” ?

It’s fascinating. It’s pathological.

So, after all this “loving” stuff and all this sexual stuff, we finally went out for dinner. A crowded Saturday night in SoHo. Oysters. Literally about eighty of them, if not more. But …. but there was wine. “Gerald, I promise: JUST ONE GLASS !”.

Three glasses later and already altered to the naked eye (I’m saying this because only some days before, I had witnessed the most horrendous experience of her X alcohol….ouch, never mind). And the chain reaction from hell begins: cigarettes, this and that, loose sentences with no connections (but not a Joyce, by any means) and….YES! I asked her for a massage.

OF COURSE!  I’d LOVE to give you a massage. I LOVE YOU.

This massage was abruptly halted because there was no oil. Actually, there was oil. I mean, don’t ask me, because this is when this entire fiction becomes a  harsh reality and the entire thing breaks up. 

The massage and the relationship END because …. of oil ? OIL ? Strange analogy to the WEST and the Middle East, no?! OIL ??? 

I mean, it would be if you could watch it from afar. But you can’t. You’re caught up in it. You’re caught up in her tantrums and in her complete inability to express herself. So…you think : “is it the alcohol? The entire week plus the alcohol?”

Is she autistic?” Is she something else altogether?

Yes, I shouldn’t judge. After all, I said to her – whilst in the middle of fucking her hard: “I LOVE YOU” too and we kept on screaming these almost (now) senseless words at one another for a few hours. As long as sex lasted. A few hours.

She is incapable of loving back in spite of those “I LOVE YOUsss…”. She’s incapable of fulfilling one simple wish like ….a massage. A simple massage, nothing incredible.

Yes, I gave her a brand new play since she calls herself an actress. Did she read it ? I’ll never know. Never a comment. “OF COURSE I DID !!! I LOVE YOU”.

What an answer!!!!

I SPEND HOURS AND HOURS IN FRONT OF THE COMPUTER WATCHING EVERY INTERVIEW YOU EVER GAVE BECAUSE….. I   L O V E    Y O U !!!”…. she kept on stressing about the interviews as if these were the core of one’s life.

“But what about the book of drawings I gave you?”

 “I LOVE YOU !!!”

This sound, as it were,  has become almost a CURSE ! Goddamn it.

I’d rather be hated at this point. Really. What is this?

I’m hurt.  Yes, I’m hurt because I’m going thru a very difficult phase (artistically) and I opened myself up to her. I asked for help. She said YES!!!! YES!!!

She said YES!!!! YES!!! 

I needed input, new kind of… stuff…ideas to be thrown around…. But her eyes only have eyes for her (self). Eyes which look at eyes. It’s an Escher sort of thing.

This explains why she liked being licked, sucked and had came so many times. But when it came (no pun) to GIVING, oh boy! What difficulty. But always the praise. Always the praise and the promised land.



In sixty two years – honestly! In 62 years I have experimented and experienced many things. BUT never, EVER have I seen or shared time with a person who SO HATED herself, loathed herself. 

This is a curse which, after a week, I’ve come to realize, is one of the commandments which reside atop a mountain, some mountain in the fantasy world of a promised land. 

A version of an aversion of an Android  Moses with its wires gone bad, wires on fire, wires plugged on acid rain. Damn.

OIL !!!

Gerald Thomas

October 2, 2016







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