Kavinsky shrugged, trying to pinpoint what it was about porn that just didn't do it for him. He liked watching it with someone--as long as there were no girls in the scene--and he didn't mind watching it to laugh at because, frankly, porn was fucking ridiculous. But he didn't seek it out. He had dreamt himself skin magazines, time and again, hoping for something. But nothing there, either.

"I'm defective," he settled on after a moment's thought, and then laughed and shrugged. "I don't really...anything, left to my own devices. Like, I think about that shit all the time, I have since I hit puberty. I just...need a hell of some motivation to jumpstart."