Some years have passed away since I penned the foregoing, and it is not
printed. I have since gone through abnormal phases of amatory life, have
done and seen things, had tastes and letches which years ago I thought
were the dreams of erotic mad-men; these are all described, the
manuscript has grown into unmanageable bulk, shall it, can it be
printed? What will be said or thought of me, what become of the
manuscript if found when I am dead, better to destroy the whole, it has
fulfilled its purpose in amusing me, now let it go to the flames!
I have read my manuscript, through what reminiscences I had actually
forgotten some of the early ones; how true the detail strikes me as I
read of my early experiences; had it not been written then, it never
could have been written now, has anybody but myself faithfully made such
a record? It would be a sin to burn all this, whatever society may
say it is but a narrative of human life, perhaps the every day life of
thousands, if the confession could be had.
What strikes me as curious in reading it, is the monotony of the course
I have pursued toward women who were not of the gay class; it has been
as similar, and repetitive as fucking itself; do all men act so, does
every man kiss, coax, hint smuttily, then talk baudily, snatch a feel,
smell his fingers, assault, and win, exactly as I have done? Is every
woman offended, say no, then oh! blush, be angry, refuse, close her
thighs, after a struggle open them, and yield to her lust as mine have
done? A conclave of whores telling the truth, and of Romish Priests,
could alone settle the point. Have all men had the strange letches which
late in life have enraptured me, though in early days the idea of them
revolted me? I can never know this, my experience if printed may enable
others to compare as I cannot.
Shall it be burnt or printed? How many years have passed in this
indecision, why fear; it is for others' good and not my own if
preserved.