LOVE, LUST
&
FAKING IT
The Naked Truth About Sex,
Lies, and True Romance
Jenny McCarthy
Thank you for trusting the key.
It’s okay to open the door.
The dream is real.
Contents
Part One: LOVE …
1. Finding Your First Love
2. My Endless Love
3. Getting Dumped
4. Why Do We Love Who We Love?
5. Prove Your Love: Tattoo It!
6. How to Love Yourself: A Lesson from Byron Katie
7. Masturbation: The Other Kind of Self-Love
8. If I Can’t Have You … No One Will: Abusive Relationships
9. Chocolate
10. Dating the Teletubby
11. Couples Counseling
12. The Power of a Loving No
13. Breaking Up: How Do You Know When It’s Over?
Part Two: LUST …
14. Fantasies: Our Secret Life
15. Sexual Harassment
16. STDs: The Gift That Keeps on Giving
17. Threesomes
18. Fetishes: The Need to Get Kinky
19. What Happens in Vegas…
20. Astrological Signs: Best Sex Partners According to the Stars
21. Cheating: Thou Shalt Not Covet Another Vagina
22. Sex Facts: Did You Know…?
23. Man Junk and Lady Bits
24. Me So Horny
25. The Perfect Booty Call
26. Songs to Do the Nasty To
Part Three: FAKING IT …
27. Boobies: Just Clumps of Fat
28. The Facade: Love the Fake Me
29. Aphrodisiacs: So We Don’t Have to Fake It!
30. Lights Off in the Bedroom!
31. When Botox Goes Bad
32. Women: The Masters of Manipulation
33. The Making of a Polish Porn Star
34. Brad Pitt
35. What Are Friends For?
36. My Buddhahood
Acknowledgments
About the Author
ALSO BY JENNY McCARTHY
Copyright
About the Publisher
Part One
LOVE …
[1]
Finding Your First Love
My parents were married for thirty years. And I thought for sure they would never get divorced. Not because they publicly adored each other or looked at each other with meaningful looks-quite the contrary. I thought they would stay together forever because divorce happened to other people, not my family. But it did happen, and they divorced when I was twenty-one. I knew it was better off that way, but I still crawled into bed and gave it a good old cry.
I couldn’t possibly imagine my parents with new boy-friends or girlfriends. Gross! It made me sick to my stomach to even think of them getting naughty with someone else. But after a year or so of my parents being “on the market,” my mom called with an amazing story from her past. There was this boy named Tom who she dated from the time she was fifteen to age twenty. Tom was her high school sweetheart. They went to each other’s proms and have pictures to prove their growth through puberty together. They were madly in love with one another, until one horrific day…
My mom found a picture of another girl in Tom’s wallet, not even a naked one, and she freaked the hell out. Tom swore to my mom it was only in there because the girl gave it to him, and that was it. Mom didn’t believe him, of course, and threw him out. She was devastated and avoided Tom at every cost. Tom didn’t give up, though. He knocked on doors, showed up at her work, and tried everything aside from handing her a gift box with his balls in it to get Mom back. Mom then quickly started dating this guy named Dan, who happens to be my dad. He had just returned from serving in Vietnam, and was after my mom like she was a hot little cupcake. As my mom put it, they were waiting to have sex until they were married, so they decided to tie the knot in a matter of months. The wedding was set and was a week away. But she felt sad; it just didn’t feel right. Tom showed up that night and said, “Please don’t do this. I love you, Linda, you’re my life, don’t marry that guy.” Mom started bawling her eyes out and said, “I’m sorry, but my mom already paid for the wedding.”
They both cried, and then she did what she had to do: she threw him out of the house as fast as she could. She knew he was the love of her life, but there was nothing she could do about it. They never saw each other again. Ugh! That killed me. I couldn’t believe that for thirty years my mom’s heart had been in another place!
As soon as she finished telling me this story, I started freaking out. How romantic! I mean, the part about not really wanting to marry my dad was a little upsetting, but this sounded like the love of her life. I told her that we should try to find him—maybe he was divorced, too. Pretty much all the baby boomers were divorced, so I thought her odds were pretty great.
She replied, “I did find him.”
To give you a little backstory, my mom worked as a janitor in a courthouse. Yes, a janitor. She cleaned up jail cells and bathrooms and actually enjoyed her job. That’s just how living saints roll, I guess. Apparently she’d been cleaning a courtroom the day before, and a lawyer came back because he forgot his briefcase. She looked up, and it was Tom. They both stared at each other in silence for a second. My mom uttered, “Tom?” It was like the Luke and Laura reunion on General Hospital, but without the male perm. They slowly approached each other in shock. She said he looked exactly the same, except he was bald. She said they talked about how long it had been and compared notes on their families. Then my mom dropped the “I’m divorced” card, just to see what he would say. Tom replied, “I’m separated from my wife.” DING DING DING!
I said, “Mom, it’s meant to be. This is the love of your life! I can’t believe you guys found each other like this.” But being more Catholic than the pope, my mom replied, “Well, I can’t pursue anything until he’s completely divorced.”
I begged her to at least go to dinner. She already believed she was going to burn in hell anyway for getting a divorce from my dad, so I said, “Why not just be naughty, since you’re already going to hell?” She laughed, and I was able to hear in her voice an excitement I hadn’t heard in years.
Mom and Tom were married in April 2000 and are still going strong. They talk about “doing it,” and it completely grosses me out. But I’m happy she’s happy. As for my dad, he’s still single. Please write to me if your mom is looking for a guy who can dance like a spider monkey with a little too much whisky in him.
In the meantime, Facebook your first love. Hopefully he doesn’t look like Don Rickles!
[2]
My Endless Love
After sharing my mom’s story, I couldn’t help but tell you about my first love. As I close my eyes, I bring up a memory that I can share from my heart. This one comes immediately to mind….
“No! Please don’t leave me!” I shouted, as I clung to Tony LoBianco’s sixteen-year-old leg. Tony had caught me talking to one of his football teammates, Bob Caponigro, and wanted to break up with me because of it. Tony was my everything: my life, my breath, my smile, and my reason for wearing cherry lip gloss after school. He didn’t wind up breaking up with me at this particular moment, but his urge to start “checking out more meat at the deli” was about to rear its ugly head.
“I think we should break up for a month,” said Tony. “I want to go on spring break, and need to feel free.” At this point we had been dating for four years (which is twenty-eight years in teenager years), and the love of my life had just asked to break up with me for a month so he could be free on spring break. Could there be a worse thing to say to
a sixteen-year-old girl who just had her cherry popped by him the year before? I mean, what the hell? I immediately fell to the ground in hysterics.
“No, please don’t do this! I’ll die.” I tried grabbing his leg once again, but he was able to break free. I watched Tony walk out the door with a spring in his step, excited to meet some spring break canooters!
I lay in my bed for the next four weeks, unable to go to school, to eat, or to speak. My parents thought I had had a psychotic break. I kept dreaming about how things used to be between us. Watching Tony pretend to be my dad on the phone to call in sick to school for me, so we could hump all over his house. Picking a song as “our” song that we thought would be played on the radio for a century. (We decided on “Endless Love” by Diana Ross and Lionel Richie. We thought that one would play in grocery stores for the rest of our lives—and we were right.) We talked about the children we would have together, and what we would name them: Lionel, Diana, and Brooke. We were one of those couples that everyone in school talked about: “Jenny and Tony are going to be in love forever.”
Nothing will ever come close to matching the voltage of your first love in terms of intensity. Kind of like with sex. Nothing later will ever be able to top the first time a guy has sex—that HOLY CRAP WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!?! Well, that’s what first true love feels like to a girl. Tony was my first everything. My first make-out session, my first dry hump, my first finger, my first boob squeeze, my first hickey, my first BJ … you get the idea. Tony was it for me. If he hadn’t walked out on me to go on spring break, I would have been the most faithful, wonderful, childbearing, respectful wife to him for the rest of my life.
But looking back now, I couldn’t be more grateful that Tony wanted a spring break hookup. During those four weeks of crying in bed in a catatonic state, something shifted inside me. The perfect Catholic, obedient sweet girl named Jenny grew the beginning part of a backbone while dying in that bed. I don’t know how, but the shift had slowly begun.
Tony came back from spring break, and I did what any love-starved sixteen-year-old girl would do—I took him back. Then, after a week of making up, he dropped another bomb on me. Tony had met a girl that he “kissed” on spring break, and had invited her to be his date to prom! Tony said he felt bad because the girl had already bought her dress. Needless to say, I was shocked. I had been dating Tony since I was twelve! Mind you, we didn’t break up; I just made him promise not to touch her the entire night. My prom wasn’t until the next year, so I had to sit at home and drink Bacardi until I puked green and it was over. Tony came back to me with his promises that nothing happened at prom, and we continued to date.
Now I know what you’re thinking: Where’s that backbone you spoke of, that shift? Well just you wait, it’s coming.
We continued to date for a year. Many back-seat parking-lot sex sessions, lots of cuddling. Then spring break time rolled around again. This was now my senior year of high school, and Tony was a freshman in college. I sat him down one night and said, “This is my one and only spring break in my lifetime. I would like to break up for four weeks and experience spring break feeling free.” The look on his face was heartbreaking. I wasn’t doing this as revenge; I just felt that if I were going to marry Tony someday, I wanted to have the same life experiences he did. He walked out of my house crushed. I felt bad, but I was excited to experience some spring break meatheads!
When I got back from spring break, with my sunburned skin peeling off my face, Tony and I immediately got back together. I just had to break it to him that I met a guy on spring break that I “kissed” and had invited to my prom. Déjà vu, but I didn’t care; I wanted fairness in this relationship. So … Bobbie from Long Island flew out and took me to the prom, while it was Tony’s turn to stay home and chug rum. My prom turned out to be a disaster—all Bobbie wanted to do was squeeze my boobs.
Once that nightmare was over, Tony and I continued our relationship, and it was stronger than ever. We’d both gotten to see what it was like with someone else for a whole four weeks, and were coming up on our seventh anniversary. But a few days before I turned nineteen, I woke up feeling like I was meant to be moving on. I guess the seven-year itch had set in. I was still deeply, deeply in love with Tony, but I felt a yearning to go see the world. I told him to meet me at White Castle on the corner of Seventy-ninth and Pulaski. I sat in my car as I watched him walk down the street toward me. My eyes filled with tears, thinking about how I had gotten to watch this boy turn into a man. We had spent the most important years of our lives together. We were Tony and Jenny … and I was about to officially end it.
He jumped in my car with a solemn look. “You’re ending it, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I cried. I said, “for no other reason than it’s time for me to go. I love you, Tony. I’ll always love you.”
I climbed on top of him, and we held each other and cried. After about thirty minutes, he kissed me on the cheek and got out of the car, and I watched him walk away. That was the last time I ever saw Tony LoBianco.
I suffered through many bad relationships after Tony, and after my marriage ended, I came to the conclusion that true love isn’t real. And then I flashed back to Tony. That was real. That was the most real love anyone could experience in a lifetime. So I told myself, I will recognize true love again when a guy can make me feel like Tony LoBianco did.
I still wonder about Tony LoBianco. I have tried to look him up on Facebook and Twitter. No luck. I would love to see him again and tell him, “I meant what I said in White Castle. I’ll always love you. You’ll always be my Endless Love.”
[3]
Getting Dumped
Getting dumped might be one of the most painful experiences next to giving birth. Not only do you feel out of control, you feel worthless. Almost everyone has or will experience getting dumped in their lifetime. Unless, of course, you’re a nun. Jesus can’t dump nuns.
I will never forget a specific “getting dumped” moment in my life. I was shocked and totally blindsided by this experience. I was so caught up in myself and my own problems that I didn’t read the signs that problems were escalating in the relationship. I will forever be scarred by the experience. This was the note I came home to one horrific evening.
Jenny,
I can’t do this anymore. I feel used and I feel like you don’t appreciate me. We’ve been together for so long and you seem to only care about yourself. You’re controlling and I never feel like I get a say in what we do. You come home from work and who is there to take care of you??? I AM!! Who makes you feel good when you’re sad? I DO! I’ve never flaked on you once. I’ve had my occasional episodes of exhaustion but after I recharged my batteries I was there for you. You need to be more considerate and not take advantage of me the way you do. I feel abused and frankly, I’m ready to find someone else.
P.S. You really need counseling.
The letter was signed, “Your Vibrator.” I was in shock that Vibrator had just dumped me. How dare he just abandon me like this? I looked around the house in disbelief that he had really left. It was true. I couldn’t find him anywhere. The house was so painfully quiet that I turned on all the ceiling fans just to fill the void and to simulate the humming sound I missed so very much. I read the letter again to try and read into what went wrong. I closed my eyes and looked back into my memory file to recapture the moments that led to this.
When I first met Vibrator, we were at a store. He was staring at me, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. He was so much better looking than all the other vibrators. He knew it, too. I could tell by the vibe he put off that this one was meant for me. I approached him slowly.
“Hello Vibrator.”
“Wuz up,” he replied.
He was cocky. That turned me on even more.
I whispered, “Do you think you can handle a woman like me?”
“Bitch, you have no idea what I’m capable of,” he replied.
I ripped him off the shelf and gave him a squeez
e.
“I guess we’re about to find out, huh?”
That night was our first night together. I screamed in delight as he instinctively knew exactly where my buttons were. After hours of passion, I collapsed onto my pillow and lit a cigarette.
“You’re so damn hot,” I said to Vibrator.
“I know,” he replied.
As months went on, our sex life was beyond passionate. I brought him on trips with me and even bought him new accessories. Vibrator seemed to be happy, but I guess I missed the signs of it being ONLY about sex.
I came home from work one day and found Vibrator on the phone with an abuse victims hotline. I yelled, “Hang up the phone right now or I will knock those batteries right out of your ass!”
Vibrator slammed the phone down and screamed, “Bitch, you don’t love me. You never have. I’m exhausted all the time, and I don’t feel appreciated for everything I do for you.”
Then, Vibrator walked toward the front door. I yelled, “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He replied, “I’m going bowling,” and then slammed the door shut. That should have been a lesson for me, but I ignored it and went on with my life.
The next relationship misstep took place in the bathroom. I looked in the tub one afternoon to find Vibrator! My son, Evan, must have mistaken him for a new toy. I yanked him out of the tub. He was choking on water.
Love, Lust & Faking It Page 1
