Chapter One: The Curiosity That Killed the Cat
For as long as I can remember, curiosity has been the constant rhythm of my life. Growing up in a quiet, suburban town in California, my world was small, yet my mind forever reached outward, longing to understand people, connection, and the unseen forces that shape our experiences. I was a seeker—hungry to learn, to uncover, to make sense of the stories that danced just beyond my parents’ carefully drawn boundaries.
My childhood was safe, perhaps too safe—a bubble my parents constructed out of love and caution. They weren’t wrong, but in their effort to shield me from the world, they left me craving more. Certain subjects, especially those tangled up in the mystery of adulthood, were strictly off-limits. Sex, for example, was never discussed. When the topic surfaced, it was quickly dismissed, leaving me with nothing but questions. If it was so taboo, why did it seem woven into the very fabric of human life—so ordinary and yet so forbidden?
My first true glimpse into this forbidden world came from an unlikely source: my grandfather. I remember sitting in the backseat, listening with rapt attention as he—half-joking, half-reminiscing—spoke fondly of “those titty clubs.” I was only ten, but old enough to understand that there was something mysterious and grown-up about the neon-lit buildings we’d pass on the drive to San Diego. If you know, you know. 😉 From that moment, my curiosity became a quiet obsession, I needed to know what existed behind those walls.
As I grew older, life began to unravel in unexpected ways. When I was thirteen, my parents’ marriage collapsed under the weight of secrets and shifting loyalties. My father, desperately ill and facing mortality, emerged from surgery with a new lease on life and a new love, the nurse who had cared for him. Overnight, my family fractured. The earth I thought I stood on so firmly crumbled beneath me.
Like many children, I had placed my parents on a pedestal, believing in the perfection of family. But behind every closed door, I learned, are private worlds and unspoken desires. My teenage years became a search for what was missing—a longing to understand the complex, often messy reality of human relationships. If I’m honest, I never truly found the answer. Not then.
It wasn’t until I left for Los Angeles, drawn by the promise of a career in beauty and a chance to finally chase my questions, that I began to piece together my own truth.
To be continued…