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Bad Girls: 26 Writers Misbehave
Excerpt from Ellen's Introduction I once drove to East Hampton with my husband to meet hot-shot clients of his who had invited us to their summer house for a weekend. My husband was a corporate attorney – I was a writer and college teacher. The clients were advertising executives. We met them at the door of their luxurious home, got the very grand tour and walked through the back door so they could show off their ocean. I took one look, threw off my clothes and ran naked into the waves. I behave badly to set myself apart. To test myself. To push myself. To prove something. To shock someone. To get attention. To get a reaction. I behave badly because I can. Because I won't get caught. Because I will. Every time I come close to being a good girl the bad girl in me goes wild. I'm not alone. There are a lot of us acting badly out there. I gather these writers' essays here because I want to peek behind the curtains. I want the naughty rush of witnessing bad behavior. I want the comforting shoulder rub of recognition. I want the smarter-than-me insight into what makes us so bad. Not that I'm about to change my bad girl ways. Maybe I just want a little company. I'm a bit of a loner. (I wonder if most bad girls are.) But I'm not going to miss this party. My first memory: I'm standing on the stage. I'm two or three and I can feel the smallness of me on that stage. My eyes burn against the bright lights – out there, somewhere, is a sea of people. There's a hum of noise and then silence. I look straight out into a black space that is filled with everyone I know and I recite: There was a little girl Who had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead When she was good She was very, very good And when she was bad She was horrid!
I kidnapped my Brownie Scout Troup. I let a twenty-one year old boy teach me almost everything I ever needed to know about sex when I was fourteen. When a massage therapist let his hands wander, I went back for more.
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