I agree with this. I read Liz’s autobiography a couple of years ago, and she describes being sexually assaulted by another child whilst at primary school. Sounds terrifying and painful experience. She takes care to point out that she was ‘hairless’ (didn’t need to say that as she was a child, so of course she would have been). This must surely have affected her more deeply than she let on, and she perhaps feels that a man would only be interested in her when she’s fully waxed. She says in the book that she never told anyone about the assault, not even her mum. But she does recognise that it triggered a fear of men (understandably), and perhaps explains why she gets stuck on the fantasy stage of a relationship, but dislikes intimacy and is quick to find faults in any prospective partner.
You may be right. I have to confess that I thought there was more than a whiff of a certain chinny football pundit when she wheeled that story out (it was in the Dreary, too) but it may be true. The problem is that she tells so many whoppers, it can be difficult to spot the possible glint of a needle of truth in the haystack of utter bollocks.
On another note, she is at great pains to point out that she considers herself to be the World's Greatest Lover and completely fails to correlate this with the fact that every single one of the 3 ½ men she claims to have done "all the sex" with have cheated on her... and even the elderly baker turned down the chance of a free, three-day shagathon in favour of spending some time with some people he actually likes.
No, I think it is as a majority of us suspect: She lives in a weird, two-dimensional world with no colour, no depth, no passion. She is enabled by a tiny clique of fellow narcs and/or those out for the very modest crumbs off her rickety table. One thing is certain, however: she will never shoulder responsibility for her own failings, be they fiscal, emotional, career or whatever, because whenever it hits the fan, it's always somebody else's fault.