I feel like maybe I’m leaving something out, though.

Oh yeah… the mind-blowing, filthy sex I’ve come to enjoy, and the man who gives it to me.

A year and a half ago, when I toured to promote the new album, I was starting to get run down by the fast life. Different cities every night, interviews, photoshoots, it all sounds great, and it is, but it’s also exhausting. I like to drink, but I’m not even twenty-one, so it’s not like I can go to a bar or a club yet. Drugs scare me to death, especially after hearing my Dad’s story about Earl Driscoll.

But being on the road so much demands some sort of release, some kind of stress reliever.

I bumped into Bailey and Mikayla from MYB one afternoon in Los Angeles, and had lunch with them. They’d been on the fame treadmill a few years longer than I had, so we discussed how they coped with it.

“I know of four ways to ‘destress’ that actually work, maybe five,” Mikayla explained. “The maybe one is gambling, because it really just adds a layer of a different kind of stress, so it’s actually not so good, but it can be an escape. But the big four are drinking, exercise, sex, and whatever your drug of choice might be.”

Bailey picked up where Mikayla left off. “But unless you’re in Amsterdam, or weed is your thing, in certain states, drugs are frowned upon, and with good reason. They can totally suck. Yelena’s brother has overdosed twice and almost died. He has a serious heroin problem that he can’t beat. Drinking is fun, of course, but how much, or how often, can you really drink? And stay functional, anyway.”

“And not gain a shitload of weight,” Mikayla added, using her fork to stab a chunk of cucumber in her salad.

“Exactly,” Bailey agreed. “So, that leaves working out and, well, fucking.”

We all laughed.

“You’re so crass,” Mikayla cut in. “Nobody says you have to fuck. I am a total pillow princess. Nothing helps me forget a lousy crowd, a boring bus ride, or missing friends and familiar things like,” she leaned in a whispered conspiratorially, “Orgasms! And plenty of them.”

We laughed again, although I was lost.

“Okay, I’m a small-town girl. ‘Pillow princess’?”

Mikayla stuffed a breadstick in her mouth and blushed.

Bailey smirked at her. “Okay, what Mik is talking about is that she likes, well, I mean everybody likes, but she really likes getting head.”

I still didn’t understand, and my confusion must have been apparent.

“Having guys go down on her. It’s, like, her thing,” Bailey explained. “Pillow princess means she lays back on a pillow like some sort of a princess or a queen or Cleopatra or something and she has guys, you know, make her come like that. For hours.”

“Not hours,” Mikayla insisted, and threw a crouton at Bailey.

My jaw was on the floor.

“I don’t understand. Where do you find guys who would be into that? That’s crazy,” I said.

“You’d be surprised, girl,” Mikayla insisted. “Some guys love it. Sometimes, even more than I do, it seems like. Anyway, that’s how I keep from going crazy. Bailey, obviously, does nine million crunches a day. I hate her.”

Bailey had the most famous abs in music, a six-pack that looked like it had been chiseled by a master sculptor. Her body was sick.

“Five million. And don’t be so jealous!” Bailey fired the crouton back at Mikayla.

That conversation got me thinking. I dedicated myself more to working out. I’d never have abs like Bailey, but I knew I looked better than I ever had, and negative comments about my weight had mostly dried up. Maxim put me in their Hot 100 at #32, complimenting my ass and saying I had “top ten potential.” Sure, not something a feminist would, or should, wear as a badge of honor, but I looked at it as sweet revenge on all the guys who ignored me for so many years.

Now, I could ignore them.

The sex stuff I chatted with M & B about resonated with me, and although I had no idea, or even desire, to recruit a team of guys to do for me what Mikayla’s did for her, I did crave something more than my vibrator.

One man more than anything and anyone else.

The man who was my bodyguard. From the beginning.

Casual sex and hookups weren’t my thing, but I soon came to realize that I had a near-constant travel companion whom I figured had to be at least as frustrated as I was, and to whom I was ridiculously attracted.

And had been for years.