Well, I may have had my body, but I saw it as worthless. For a start, I thought I was short, despite my five feet nine and three quarter inches; it’s amazing what an inferiority complex can do. From my height I looked down at a fairly respectable portion of the population, and yet I felt everyone was looking down at me. There are reasons for all this, but I don’t want to go on criticising my parents, especially now I’m a parent myself and my children aren’t exactly lacking in reasons to criticise me. Put simply, my sexual needs, and my need for something resembling affection, made me seek out prostitutes as an emergency solution, while I waited to see what on earth would become of that life of mine which had suddenly, ever since the gaze of the green-eyed girl, transformed into unsteady flailing and going round in circles and bumping into invisible walls. I was like a fly that’s flown into a bottle and got stuck and can feel itself running out of air (ricocheting off G, in the end, was what helped me escape).