Steve Jobs' Ex: "Our lovemaking had been sublime"

Chrisann Brennan became involved with Apple's founding tyrant when the company and he were both very young—they went on to have a daughter, who he abandoned for a large part of her childhood. But at least, according to a new tell-all, "Steve and I still shared nights of lovemaking so profound that...fifteen years later, he called me out of the blue to thank me for them."

Yikes. An excerpt of her upcoming book appears in the New York Post, and provides a first person view of the Jobsian personality cult:

Even after swapping rooms in this way, Steve and I still shared nights of lovemaking so profound that, astonishingly, some fifteen years later, he called me out of the blue to thank me for them. He was married at the time of his call and all I could think of was, Whoa . . . men . . . are . . . really . . . different. Imagine if I had called him to say such a thing.

We remembered different things. Mainly I recalled how awful he was becoming and how I was starting to flounder. But he was right: our lovemaking had been sublime. At the time of Steve’s phone call, I found that as I listened I was as awed by the memory as by his strange need to risk an expression of such intimacy. After I hung up I stood still and thought, Maybe Steve thinks that love has its own laws and imperative. But why call now?


Of course, Apple's mythological CEO was a prick, and now there will be more anecdotes saying as much:

For example, in the pre-Apple days whenever we’d go out for dinner (which wasn’t that often), Steve would often be sarcastic toward the restaurant staff. The host would say, “Two?” and Steve would reply, “No, fifteen!” driving for the implicit “DUH!” But after Apple started we ate out a lot more and Steve’s behavior toward service people changed into a different kind of disempowerment.

Steve would order the same meal night after night, yet he’d complain bitterly each evening about the little side sauces that were served with it, cutting the air with disdain for the waitstaff who would serve up such greasy-salty-tasteless-mock-fine cuisine.

Sounds fun! As does dropping acid with Steve:

A few years earlier Steve had tried to get me to primal scream “Mommy, Daddy, Mommy, Daddy” when we had taken LSD because he thought he was fit to oversee that kind of opening up in me just from having read a book. The fact that he had never gone through primal therapy himself didn’t seem to concern him.

But at least the laptop Henry Ford was good in the sack, if not a good person. “The Bite in the Apple: A Memoir of My Life With Steve Jobs," goes on sale on October 29th. I wonder if Apple's glad Tim Cook is so boring?