Hello world, it’s me again, the girl who was coerced into giving a handie to Terry Richardson when she was young and stupid, and is therefore qualified to talk about the things he does to/with/on people who are currently young and stupid, forever and ever, amen.

Jane Pratt’s new website xoJane has published one girl’s account of having fully consensual, enthusiastic sex with ol’ Uncle Terry. According to her, he was “the perfect gentleman.” O RLY? Let’s take a look.

Author Caroline Marguerite starts off by talking about how she first fell for Richardson when she saw a photo in a magazine of him ostensibly having sex with a sheep, who, she believed, “was baring her splayed yellow teeth with unhinged, leering rapture.” Whether or not he was actually boning the sheep, sticking your dick in a defenseless animal is (this should go without saying) a form of animal abuse that is, justifiably, punishable by prison time. That both parties thought this was a super cool thing to do (or mime doing)  is the first red flag on this chick’s road to crazy town. She also says she was turned on by his “child molester glasses.” Again, even if he’s not actually molesting children, is “this person looks totally poised to ruin some kid’s life forever” really an attractive descriptor?

She next describes where she was at in life when she finally met Richardson at age 32. She’d lost her job and could only afford to live in L.A.’s hip Silverlake neighborhood by having a bunch of shitty roommates, like “a horny ex-Goth lesbian who threatens suicide at least twice daily.” What a stupid bitch, having mental health problems all up in her space when she was trying to concentrate on her ironic rape porn. I’m starting to understand why some people might form negative stereotypes about young, white, downwardly mobile hipster girls.

She then elicits a tiny bit of sympathy by describing the loser boyfriend she’s unable to break up with:

My boyfriend was a handsome but confused musician who had been attending Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings to remedy his obsession with the “Casual Encounters” section on Craigslist. I had to bail him out of jail after he got caught with magic mushrooms in his pocket while trying to board a plane to Reno. Then he got busted by undercover cops trying to sell cocaine at a Burger King in Echo Park. After two years together, he didn’t like to talk about “the future,” and was constantly dropping hints about “an open relationship.” Why was I clinging to this dead-end love I wondered, downing another glass of champagne.

My takeaway from this is that her self-esteem was in the toilet at this point in time. And we all know who’s attracted to girls with low self esteem. Enter Uncle Terry!

Wretched and morose, I was about to leave the party when I spied America’s favorite sheep-shagger Terry Richardson, sitting by himself.

They meet and joke a bit about animal rape, and then he’s gone. After the party, he has one of his toadies text her friend to get her number for him. The next day, tired of masturbating to puppy snuff films, no doubt, he texts her inviting her to come to his hotel room and sex him, and she does. He fucks her even though her ass is like, way fatter than those of the models he photographs, which is totally nice of him. Then she leaves. Some of the article appears to have been removed (what gives, Jane?) but the old version says they still text occasionally.

Is this seriously what passes for “gentlemanly” nowadays? Booty texting? I’m not judging her for her terrible taste in men (okay, I am a little), but she’s clearly romanticizing the whole experience when what actually occurred was 1.) girl feels bad about self, 2.) girl wants to do something dirty and degrading, like stick her head in a trash can, 3.) girl then decides to have one night stand with Terry Richardson instead. It seems to me like she’s enacting one of my worst nightmares: to think I’m writing about something cool I did, but to actually be writing about how badly I need therapy. Almost all the things she finds attractive about him are associated with exploitation of one kind or another.

Or maybe I’m wrong, and the whole thing was totally awesome and empowering for her. The story still seems like a bit of a “fuck you” to all the people who’ve been legitimately hurt by him. I know if I found out someone I’d once banged was accused of such serious, chronic sexual harassment in the workplace (and yes, his studio is a workplace for the models that agencies send over), I’d feel retroactively horrified. But then she’d be out of the cool kids’ club of fashion people who are down with Terry, making it significantly harder for her to find work in the field.

I wonder what Jane Pratt’s buddy Tavi Gevinson thinks of all this?