I went to art school. Now art school is not like regular college. Tai chi was a required course, we had a circus class taught by a bearded lady, and clothing was optional everywhere but the cafeteria. Similarly, the students there are of a different grain. They're very deep and introspective, really open to experimentation of any kind, and they have weird haircuts. In my case, the first year there was fraught with exploration. I learned a lot about the inner workings of me. I learned how to become "a clean sheet of paper"; I learned how to breathe through my coccyx; I learned that pretty much anyone would have sex with me. This at first I thought was because I was "so talented" or "so creative." Later, of course, I realized I was just easy. So I capitalized on it.

Exploring my newfound sexuality, there was, of course, the girl-on-girl action, the crazy threesome with the afros and whips, and the surreal 'shrooms experience where I thought the tree was fondling me but it turned out to be my creepy male roommate with calluses on his hands... gross. You get the picture. I developed this (possibly misplaced) sexual pride, based solely on the quantity of penetrations of my vagina... and not necessarily the quality of the acts therein...