“And I didn’t even have contraception. What was I going to do, wear my diaphragm to the restaurant? It’s so embarrassing when they know you knew it was going to be sex. It’s like, sometimes I try to be contemporary and modern, and on some level I just don’t agree with anything I’m doing. So I told him I wasn’t comfortable having sex with people I’d just met, and he seemed to get it. He said, ‘Why don’t you stay the night?’

“So I stayed over, and we necked for a while and it was nice. At one point we were kissing, and he said, ‘This would be a great shot of you.’ He told me that when he was in India he looked at the Himalayas and said, ‘Great shot!’ And he was there. It’s like we don’t know we’re there anymore. We’re so detached from our own experience, and so into how we can use that experience. As we’re having it, we’re putting it into another medium. Life is the largest medium we’ve got, and we want to put it in these smaller ones, to get it down to scale . . .

“Anyway, I stayed over, and then in the morning I felt like he was distant from me. He was still being nice, but he seemed . . . I don’t know, I mean, it was the morning so a little distance is understandable, but I thought I felt him moving away, which instantly made him incredibly attractive, and we had sex. I made him breakfast, which I told him I never usually did, but I kept telling him I never usually did everything I was doing. It wasn’t a brilliant breakfast—the eggs were brown and I burned the first two pieces of bacon. I can’t seem to time food to end together.

“Then he went off to edit his new movie, Ziz!, and I went home. By the end of the day I’d talked to most of my friends . . . Sometimes I’m not sure I even have any friends. I may just have a large group of people that I tell everything to. It’s like I’ve made intimacy a superficial gesture. Anyway, their consensus was, ‘Watch out, he’s a known sex addict, he fucks everybody.’