This week’s episode of Girls sent me reeling back to a time in my life when everything was imbued with psychosexual awkwardness. Actually, that’s been every episode of Girls so far, but this one did so in a more specific way than I’d expected, to the point where I had to text my friends to find out if this is a common thing. (It’s not.) Y U IN MY HEAD, LENA DUNHAM?

The “this” I’m referring to is the end of the episode when Hannah is trying to bid a satisfying goodbye to her perplexing paramour Adam, and rather than say “smell ya later,” he convinces her to stay there and watch him beat off. And she does. At which point I died from the intensity of repressed memories rushing back to the surface.

Once upon a time, I was 20. Much like Hannah, I was off searching for “life experiences,” which that particular summer involved having lots of hot, S&M-y sex with a mildly unhinged DJ/”artist”/professional mooch at least ten years my senior. (I could never pin down his real age because he lied so much.) Having had my heart broken several times already, I was kind of in a place where I wanted to see if I could have sex with someone without getting attached, and choosing someone I could never even like, let alone love, was my strategy.

In addition to all the gross-but-good sex, he was interesting to me because he was so crazy…his narcissistic, quasi-fascist world view simultaneously fascinated and repelled me. I got the feeling he wished he was a 19th century aristocrat, but he didn’t come from money, so instead he financed his lifestyle mostly via various…I’m still not sure! He never seemed to work, but he had a giant one-bedroom apartment in the East Village and would regularly jet off to Paris. Also, he was a little too into being German. And George Bataille. And karaoke. And Ayn Rand. And, as I later learned, racism. (Even a passing interest in this is way too much, of course.)

If this seems like a lot of exposition, it’s because Jennifer’s well-reasoned screed about calling people “crazy” made me feel like I should back up my claims. But if you need one more reason to dislike this person, he tried to guilt me into buying him dinner once by saying Jews were stingy, right to my Jew face. Not in a joking way, either! I’d already bought him dinner multiple times (I know). He never bought me anything. There’s so much more to tell, but you get the idea.

Now, let’s fast forward a very wee bit to the day I found myself naked and crying in his bathroom, not because I felt contrition over being a stingy Jew, but because I realized I’d been spending way too much time with someone I found kind of repulsive, and for what? Screaming orgasms? The book I thought I might write someday? Boredom? Loneliness? God, I hope I never have a daughter.

After processing these thoughts for a few days, I went back to tell him I no longer wished to know him. My memory is a little hazy here, but I think he tried to go down on me, and I just kind of went limp and rolled off the bed like, “look dude, I’m serious.” In a last ditch effort to manipulate, he said he loved me and wanted me to be his non-monogamous girlfriend, which made me laugh a little on the inside.

It was at this point that he pulled out his dick and started jerking off, begging me to stay there and watch him. I said that I would not. Then, the kicker: “You don’t care about me at all, do you?” Reader, I fled.

And that, my friends, is the story I wish I hadn’t remembered, but which I felt compelled to write once I did. I can’t wait to see what other fun anecdotes this show yanks out of the “NO” file buried deep in my brain.