People have accused me of publishing essays that are too intimate. How dare I, they say, write about my orgasms, massive therapy failures, or unsuccessful attempt to break up with myself?

What they fail to appreciate are all the experiences I have refrained from writing about. My restraint, ladylike deportment, and diplomacy deserve to be universally celebrated, as noted in the following inventory of true (and shocking!) events I have never breathed a word of to anyone:

1. I “Dated” a Guy Worth $600 Million Dollars and Asked for Nothing in Return.

This borders on the angelic.

2. I Turned Down my Boss’s Offer for an Apartment on Nob Hill and a Wallet Full of Credit Cards in Exchange for Sleeping with Him on Wednesday Nights.

Thursday nights, maybe, but not Wednesdays.

3. I Frequented the Fanciest Restrooms in San Francisco to Throw Up What I Just Wolfed Down at the Fanciest Bakery – and Tips on the Fanciest Restroom and Bakery in San Francisco. (Not everything is about sex!)

Note: Sadly, I. Magnin in San Francisco closed in 2019. Not only did their restrooms have faux gold-plated doors that came to the floor so no one could hear you gagging on pumpkin-spice cookies, and triple-chocolate brownies, but the fabulous bakery was right across the street, which was super-convenient because you could sprint back and forth between the two. (The bakery also closed.)

4. I Felt Horribly Claustrophobic in Bed with Two Guys

It was a loft bed, with low ceilings. Thinking about it still makes me claustrophobic.

Some things are about sex.

5. How I Managed to Get a Peanut Stuck in My Ear and Lied About it at the Brooklyn Ear, Nose, and Throat Hospital.

This episode put a terrible strain on my marriage and reputation as a tough, hard-driving feminist.

6. My Inspired Strategy of Running Downstairs to Toss Sweets in Kitty Litter Faster Than I Can Shove Them into My Mouth.

It’s a race against time, a classic woman vs. self story conflict.

7. I Traumatized an Already-Traumatized Adolescent on a Psychology Zoom Seminar Recently When My Facelift Tape Suddenly Popped Off. 

I haven’t seen him since.

8. Why I, a Children’s Author of Multiple Halloween Books, Hide Behind the Couch On Halloween or Try (Unsuccessfully) to Bribe My Millennial Daughter to Answer the F$%’ing Door.

Millennials, understandably, are spooked by angry, aggressive doorbells. Many have presented for therapy.

9. My Mom Told Me Growing Up That I was “Extreme and Poorly Characterized.”

I have not had much success moderating the extremes, but I have attempted to address the poor characterization by showing rather than telling.

*Actually I have written on all these subjects, but with the utmost delicacy and discretion.

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Pamela Jane is an author of over thirty children’s books (including the Halloween book Little Goblins Ten), and an essayist whose work has appeared in The NY Times, The Wall Street Journal, The NY Daily News, Writer’s Digest, The Independent, and The Writer. Pamela has also published humor in The Daily Drunk, Erma Bombeck, Brevity, The Satirist, and others.