Paxil, Zoloft, Prozac--they did wonders for my mood. My paranoia ceased. My appetite exploded. I ate two carne asada burritos and three fish tacos in a sitting at Poquito Mas on Cahuenga. But my sex drive vanished. Weeks went by without so much as a rim job or a cream pie between my Cicciolina and me. And any lover of a porn star knows that the job does not dull desire, it inflames it. I was waiting for the night she'd never come home, and arrive in the morning beelining for the shower with traces of John or Ron or Rocco in her hair. Who knew she'd drop me for an ex-commodities broker?