Diary of a Sex Addict

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As a child, you spent

hours on this swing.

Why the long face?

Can I ask you a question?

- Sure.

Did you have another

love before grandpa?

He was the only man in my life.

I married because I had no choice,

but I learned to love him.

Back then they said:

"A woman without a

trade has two options:

Marriage or prostitution."

That's about the same.

What if you could start anew?

- Would Pepe be the man of your life?

- No.

If I could start anew

I'd get fucked as much as I could.

Everyone should share your ideas.

A man who gets laid is a super macho.

If it's a woman, she's a slut.

- Sexual equality.

- Forget what they say!

If they made love more

and spoke less...

It would be better.

- It's not that simple.

What isn't?

Pay no mind, grandma.

- It's hard to explain.

- You know what you should do?

Look.

Jot down your doubts, ideas,

problems on a sheet of paper,

but interrogatively

so you can see them from

outside and understand them.

I did that at you age,

and it helped a lot.

And I still do,

but so as not to forget.

Dinner is ready.

Come on.

When you made love with grandpa,

how was it?

You're very curious.

Come, I've made shellfish

meatballs for you.

Enough for you to take to Barcelona.

I lost my virginity on

the 17th of July, 1993,

at 2:
46 in the morning.

It was during a vacation period,

when I was 15.

You never forget

a moment like that.

Are you okay?

- Yes.

I remember I felt nothing,

just deep shame for

not having bled, and

that strange feeling of

having pissed in bed.

I left with the excuse

of the toilet,

with the feeling my experience

with Edouard

couldn't be like that.

A feeling that

made me go back to him.

I was lacking something.

But, what are you doing here?

- Again.

- Once again?

No, hundreds of times.

Hundreds of times.

That strange release

of energy aroused

in me a desire to communicate

through my body,

a curiosity to experience

sensations through a kiss,

a caress or the contact

of my skin.

first experience with Edouard

I live in Barcelona and still have

the same urge to experiment

through my body.

DIARY OF A NYMPHOMANIAC

My diary, it was here.

- You're writing a diary?

- I follow your advice.

- I didn't tell you to.

Just to jot down your problems

for a better perspective.

Diaries are for lonely people.

That's not true.

They have something to tell.

Because their life is different.

And they always hope that

someone will discover it,

read it to get to know the

true personality of the author.

Right, because they feel lonely.

It's the third blackout this week.

- The dark still scares you.

- This lighter doesn't work.

Don't speak badly

of me in your diary.

Of course not.

Could you write something for me?

That you're not alone,

that I'm with you.

It's about time.

I'm unbearable in the dark.

Unbearable.

You smell of fields,

of wet, recently cut grass.

Why don't you stay over?

No, I can't.

Tomorrow I have a meeting and

must prepare my presentation.

Alex, why don't you ever stay

to sleep with me? Please?

You don't want me to sleep.

No.

Don't you ever get tired?

Val, I can't keep up

with your pace.

Besides, I told you

I have a meeting tomorrow.

Come on.

Hassan.

Valerie.

Nice to hear you.

You disappeared into thin air

but I found you?

I'll be in Barcelona this week.

I want to see you?

- How about Thursday?

- Okay, I'll call you. A kiss.

- Who was that?

- Hassan.

- He's coming?

- I'll see him Thursday.

Back to my desk,

things are getting rough.

What is?

They're restructuring.

I've heard that

ever since I'm here.

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