a certain word

I almost never use the word "cunt" anymore. Ever since a slightly drunken epiphany. A friend and I were discussing a particularly loathsome woman we know. We can't think of one person in our circle who enjoys the company, or even the thought, of this woman. As soon as her name came up I said, "Oh, that cunt!".

But then I immediately thought and said, "Wait a minute. I take that back. I love cunts. I spend as much time around them, and in them, as possible. I love their looks, their feel, their smell, and their taste. As a matter of fact, to me, she is the complete opposite of a cunt".

And that was the last time I referred to someone as a cunt.

I've not yet begun using the word as a compliment, though. The world's not ready.

Platonic Lovers

sammie's post got me thinking about the idea of having a platonic relationship with someone with whom there is a mutual sexual spark.

I think the answer is yes, especially in those situations where you both know it would be potentially harmful to one or both of you if the friendship went any further. Just because we're in a committed relationship doesn't mean we're dead, doesn't mean we'll never again meet someone into whose knickers we'd love to dive. I think it's unavaoidable, natural, and healthy.

I have several such friends. We even joke about "what ifs". But the knowledge that "what if" will never happen actually liberates the friendship. It frees us to discuss intimate aspects of our lives and thoughts in a way I don't think I could with a GF or spouse. Because there's no proprietary feelings or sense of jealousy. We can have the types of discussions I could have with male friends, yet get a woman's perspective and insight. I find this invaluable, and it's kept me out of plenty of jams.

Patty is such a friend. In a different time and place things might have been different, but we're not in a different time and place. She and I are intimate platonic friends. I think her husband would shit if he knew the types of things his wife and I discuss. But he doesn't know, and he doesn't know me. And that's just as well.

When people are in a long term relationship, whether lovers or friends or parents/children, they intuitively pick up on cues from each other. They can read the subtext of a look or action or tone of voice even if the other is trying to hide it. I know this to be true, at least for me and I believe the same thing holds for anyone who's not oblivious.

I have another friend. At one time, a long time ago, we were much more than friends. I don't believe anyone knows me better than her. But things worked out the way they worked out and we haven't had much contact over the years. A phone call once or twice a year. A drink every couple of years. One time she and her husband and me and my ex-wife were coincidentally at the same restaurant. She and I ran into each other by the bathrooms (neither of us was carrying any reading material, thank god). And the sparks flew. We avoided each other the rest of the evening, though there were several surreptitious glances.

Anyway, I called her the other night. Asked when she planned on being in the city as I'd love to see her. She had no plans to be in the city, but asked when I was going to be in her neck of the woods, which she knows is never, as it's way the fuck out there. But, as it happens, I have a business meeting not far from her one afternoon next week. I suggested we meet for a drink. She suggested I come for dinner. "Would you like to meet my family?" I don't really think it's a great idea. Her husband knows of my existence, that I am someone from her past, but she's convinced he's one of the "oblivious" ones. I'm not so sure. But I said yes anyway. It should be interesting, and I'll get to test my theory. Will he pick up on the electricity in the air? Will he care? I'll find out next week.

Dilemma

I've always found it a bit gross when a co-worker walks by my office, obviously headed for the bathroom, with the newspaper tucked under their arm. Maybe it's the implied announcement, "I'm on my way to take a crap". Not that I have a problem with reading in the bathroom, per se. I wouldn't mind if my employer had a magazine and newspaper rack installed in the bathroom. It's specifically the "walking to the toilet with the paper tucked" that irks me.

So the other day, towards the end of the work day, I went to the bathroom. On my way out, I noticed a pristine copy of that day's Post lying on top of the discarded paper towels in the waste bin. After handlessly checking it out for foulness, I grabbed it, tucked it under my arm, and left the loo.

As I walked out, my first thought was that I would tell my assistant, as I passed her on the way back to my office, that I had not, in fact, gone to the bathroom with the newspaper (she knows how I feel about that).

But that meant I would have to tell her how I got it. That I fished it out of the bathroom garbage. I didn't know which possibility was more disgusting (I thought of George Costanza eating an eclair out of his girlfriend's garbage).

I ended up telling her the whole story, including my thought process. She seemed OK with it.

I probably should've just sprung for the 25 cents and bought a new paper on my way to the subway.

Lost and Found

I got home from work yesterday and the first thing I noticed was that only one of the cats greeted (accosted) me at the door. They're usually ravenous by the time I get home and follow me around till I feed them. But there was only one.

Maybe the other one was sleeping, so I grabbed the bag of food and shook it, a surefire way to rouse a sleeping/hiding cat. But no luck. So I opened the bedroom doors, thinking he was stuck in a room all day, but nothing. Then I began opening all the cabinets, drawers, and closets. Still nothing. I went out into the hallway, walked up and down the building stairways. Nothing. I couldn't imagine where he could be and was afraid I'd find him dead under a couch or behind something.

So I went to my bedroom to change out of my suit and it hit me. When I left that morning I had opened one of the bedroom windows as it was to be a nice day. I didn't notice this immediately as the drape for that window was closed. I pulled back the drape and sure enough the window was open and the screen was gone. I had neglected to make sure everyone was out of the room before I left.

I grabbed the bag of food and headed to the back yard, sure that he had escaped the confines of the yard and was enjoying catting around the neighborhood. I shook the food and called his name but he didn't come running and I searched the yard front to back. Nothing. Then, all of a sudden, I heard a plaintive wail. And there he was. Crouched between my fence and the neighbor's. And he was yelling/crying at me like forget about it. He was wedged in pretty good and I had to force my arm thru the fence to grab him by the scruff and lift him out. As soon as he was in my arms he dug his nails into my shoulder, clinging for dear life, and continued to yell at me.

We got back into the apartment and his brother immediately began licking and cleaning him. Then they ate a bit and headed to my bedroom where they curled up together and slept. But he's been following me around ever since, not letting me out of eyesight.

Two near disasters in just as many days. But good stories nonetheless.

Hot Time

I bought some stupidly expensive new pillows and sheets the other day. That evening, A came over, we walked around the neighborhood for a while then went back to the apartment to hang out. We lit a bunch of candles, put on Bach Cello Suites, opened a coupla bottles of wine and ate finger food and just generally chilled out and talked about nothing.

Well, one thing led to another and before long we were engaged in a rather vigorous aerobic workout.

Now this next part gets a little fuzzy. I'm not sure if I smelled something, or if I just happened to lift my head for a moment, but all of a sudden I notice that one of my new pillows is on fire! Not smoldering, but in flames! I immediately jump out of bed (also jumping out of A) and try to blow out the pillow. No good. As a matter of fact, had it been a minute or so later, the blowing would've sent flaming bits of European white goose down all over the room. So I ran to the bathroom, threw the pillow in the tub and turned on the shower just as the smoke alarm went off. I ripped that fucker off the wall, trying to figure out how to remove the battery before the whole building woke up. Finally got that done, shut off the shower, and went back to bed where...

...A was totally oblivious. She had no idea what had just happened! All she wondered was why, at that particular moment, I had chosen to go take a shower. Had she done something wrong? And why was the alarm beeping? We had a good laugh about that, then went back to our merry romp.

The next day I went out and bought yet one more stupidly expensive pillow.

Update

I haven't posted in a while, but got a nice kick-in-the ass from Not Asian Enough, so here's an update:

I made an appointment with the lymphoma expert at Sloan Kettering last week. Before she would even see me, she wanted to see my pathology reports, to make sure I, in fact, had the right type of disease for her. About a week later I got a call from her office. This was the first time I noticed a peculiarity of support staff at MSKCC. At the end of every conversation, they say, "Thanks, and best of luck to you".

So I showed up at my appointment with my CT films and pathology slides. At the front desk, the attendant asked if I needed direction, I showed my letter of admittance, and he directed me to the check-in desk. I said "Thanks" and he said "You're welcome, best of luck to you".
The admitting person took all my insurance info for about a half hour, then sent me up to the doctor's suite, after saying "Best of luck to you". I almost felt bad that I wasn't sicker.
Up at the doctor's suite, I was checked in once again (BOLTY)

...To be continued, I'm tired now, not from sickness, but from a bottle of pinot grigio. And I must remember to tell the story of the flaming pillow! ;-)...