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The truth was probably that they were just afraid of vaginas, afraid that they’d fail to understand one as pretty and pink as mine, and they were ashamed of their own sensual inadequacies, afraid of their own dicks, afraid of themselves. So they focused on ‘abstract ideas’ and developed drinking problems to blot out the self-loathing they preferred to call 'existential ennui.’ It was easy to imagine those guys masturbating to Chloe Sevigny, to Selma Blair, to Leelee Sobieski. To Winona Ryder.
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