Lori had already set off earlier to clean the flat prior to the arrival of the furniture. My mother's strange mood had perplexed me. I was used to her...short temper and subsequent foul moods, but was unprepared for her portrayal of resignation and despondency. Lori had never been a favourite with her, although they remained civil. This was due to my mother's worry of being deserted, of being alone and neglected. Ever since her divorce six years earlier, I had tried on many occasions to encourage. In my defence, just prior to this sordid little episode, I had been diagnosed with sperm-addiction (a self-diagnosis, admittedly). Ironically, what made this experience even more deliciously-depraved for me, was the fact that I was seeing a counsellor for sex-addiction at the time and I got a huge kick out of divulging my sordid secrets to her, in explicit detail. Furthermore, she seemed to have a morbid-fascination for my deviant behaviour, a fascination which very possibly spurred me on to. "Instead, my dick-head's kind of weird-looking, and my piss-hole opening is on the underside of my dick, just behind my dick-head. And that's why I've always tried to have sex in the dark, so that my girlfriends can't see what my dick really looks like." Wow!" Lisa said. "So then both of us have fucked-up genitals." "Yeah. Ain't life grand!" Bill said, very sarcastically. And then his voice changed to a serious tone, and he said, "You know, that's probably why Mom and Dad never let us take. Dr. Martin just raised an eyebrow but let Sally continue. ‘They just don’t hear me. They just keep doing . . . things. Like I’m not even there. I don’t care if people think I’m a dork or anything. I just want them to think of me.’ ‘And you think no one thinks of you or that they don’t see you?’ ‘I know they don’t. I walked up and talked to this one woman . . . I mean girl . . . I mean . . . no, I do mean girl,’ Sally stammered. ‘She was talking with her friends. I said something I thought was.