Luke Ford writes: Something got seriously warped in my relationship with the opposite sex very early in my life.
On the night of my first birthday, my mother got very sick. She was soon diagnosed with cancer and over the next three years, she wasted away.
On April 24, 1970, two days after her 40th birthday and a month before my fourth birthday, she squeezed my dad’s hand and said, “Thank you for a lovely life.” Then she drifted into a coma and died.
The normal way that kids learn to relate to their parents, particularly their opposite sex parent, I don’t think that happened for me and I’ve been pretty twisted ever since.
As a kid, I liked to poke girls with sticks and announce to the world the color of their knickers.
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