I looked at them and I felt an immense pressure of need and want. I’m still like that and what I said is obviously true. I am the younger soul between Rachel and myself. I’ve long since given up hating myself for feeling like a dirty old man, a state placed on me by the British media that just goes on and on about child abuse. Wanting to be something is not the same as having sexual feelings for them. A couple of the young ladies gave me butterflies, a little anxiety because I found them very attractive. I wish I was dysfunctional in that way because it’s an easier condition to deal with than what my mind is like. I feel these things then switch back and the sense of shame and guilt is hell.
Where Stars And Their Cars Sip Orange Juice In The Sun