We were flipping through the press clippings included with It's Not Me, It's You, the hardcover debut from former Observer and Post writer Anna Jane Grossman and Los Angeleno Flint Wainess, and we noticed a blurb mentioning that none other than Fake Writer JT Leroy had contributed "his" worst breakup story to the book. Considering JT Leroy doesn't, you know, really exist, we found his essay to be delightful. A sampling:
He was a Hollywood up-and-coming dude that was terrified of being outed, even though I wore a dress and very red lipstick most of the time we rendezvoused in our secret locale. Last time it was at Hotel Vitale ($699/night, his series got renewed). I've slumbered under the Bay Bridge, but never on it, and this dang close to it... 180-degree views of the San Francisco Bay.
I loathe getting naked in front of anyone, just the vulnerability of it, and I have scar and trust issues, but then I never had a bath butler draw a bath for me in a two-person limestone soaking tub! So I didn't insist the place was pitch black, as usual.
In hindsight, a middle-aged woman doing an impression of a vulnerable, transgendered young man is almost laughable. You can just picture Leroy's creator, Laura Alpert, pondering about which Hollywood actor she'd thinly-veil and use for this piece, taking special care to punctuate her sentences with "dang" — so West Virginia, so truck stop.