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[...] This is how the memoir describes our first vacation:

We traveled from motel to boggy motel, each a damp block or two from the gray Pacific. Most of the rooms had yellow blinds or yellow curtains, a trick to make the weary traveler believe every morning is filled with sunny skies and brig…

When I was not learning about fellatio from Arnold, I was sleeping on my father’s side of the bed. The memoir never mentions the unresolved Oedipus complex or any other daddy issues. To mention the Oedipus complex, I believed, would have been stating the obvious, an insult to the reader who might n…

A forty-seven-year-old art teacher mailing a love letter in the guise of an educational solicitation to his teenage student is creepy—more than creepy, sinister. Yet the memoir treats the episode comically, a missive between star-crossed lovers.

(Sinister or amusing? There are three Jills weighi…

I was the only sugar baby I knew who lived with a sugar daddy without sugar.

There is another omission in the text. I promised Arnold that I would not tell anyone about our kiss, but in fact I did. I told my mother as soon as I got home that night. I was two hours late. She had just gotten off the phone with Arnold’s wife to ask if there had been an end-of-the-year party. H…