Push It Real Good

Sex. Given this subject, I could go on for days about awkward memories, the immense love I have for sex, the potential health benefits, and all the reasons why people should be having more of it, but I think, a Klosterman hyperthetical is in order this Sunday.

Here’s the question:

Every person you have ever slept with is invited to a banquet where you are the guest of honor. No one will be in attendance except you, the collection of your former lovers, and the catering service. After the meal, you are asked to give a 15-minute speech to the assembly.

What do you talk about?

Ok, first of all 15 minutes is ludicrous. Having taken several speech and drama courses in my lifetime, I can tell you that there’s a lot of writing involved with a 15 minute speech or monologue. Also, I sort of need to know if phone sex and strictly oral sex qualify people as former lovers and whether or not people will be brought back from the dead to attend. If so, that changes things. As it is, with my limited information, here goes:

“Well…I don’t know if your invites, by chance, may have mentioned the reason you’re all here, but apparently someone thought it would be a good idea, or perhaps hilariously awkward, if all my former lovers and I were thrown together for a dinner in my honor. All I can say is the person responsible is either incredibly stupid or the kind of evil genius that deserves my utmost respect.

I hate public speaking, so making this little speech could be completely miserable for me, but I’ve already seen all of you naked so I don’t even have to imagine what you look like without your clothes. Now that we have the obligatory corny speech-joke out of the way, we can proceed…

Some of you may be looking around the room marveling at the number of you in attendance today. To those of you who are, stop trying to count heads. It won’t change the fact that you’re all here for the same reason, and no one needs to know a specific number. I stopped keeping track of it a long time ago when I figured out that I could have as much sex as I wanted without feeling guilty as long as I did so carefully. I totally shattered that fucking double standard that vilifies women for doing what they want to do and applauds men for the same actions. (pun intended)

There are some of you I enjoyed. The memories of some of you still make me cringe. Some of you I completely forgot about until right this moment when I just saw your face but now that I remember, I can see why I forgot. And, some of you should most definitely give me a call. But regardless of the quality of the time we shared together, let’s make the best of the night. I don’t harbor any ill will toward any of you which is understandable since there was never any sort of relationship with most of you that would invoke any emotional reaction upon seeing you, and for the ones I did try the whole relationship thing with, I truly believe we’ve moved past any awkwardness or ill will except maybe you *points* who still grosses me out.

We shared a moment in our time together. Life is short and for whatever reason we chose to spend some of our precious moments with one another. Let’s raise our glasses to that…to the shared enjoyment of each other’s time, to the intimacy we shared. I’ve had some of the best conversations of my life with many of you just preceding the ultimate act of the night, and those are moments I have kept close and relished over the years—the talks, the shared laughs, the deep engagement about everything from childhood cartoons to religion to politics to books. One of the best dates of my life involved a traded movie list over a slice of late night truck stop pie. The sex afterward was great, but it never would have happened if that conversation hadn’t been so genuine and fun—a moment that could never be recaptured. Being sniffed in a pool hall wasn’t a bad night either and has been the gift that keeps on giving for over 4 years now. There was the night I shared a 6 pack on my couch with a date, one of you, who kissed me for the first time in the middle of a conversation about my bookshelf. I’ve never let go of the awesomeness of the conversations we had that night. It wasn’t just the sex with most of you…it was a memory, a part of my story and yours. And, that is never cheap.

If nothing else, I hope at the very least, you will all take a drink with me to celebrate the awesomeness of sex if not necessarily that time that *we* had sex.

I don’t want the night to be a total waste of anyone’s time, so if you’re feeling awkward or jealous or weirded out, it’s probably best for you to leave. There’s no time to dwell on negativity in our lives and no one is required to stay. I’m not going to ask you to share with the group our memory, and I’m not going to call anyone (else) out, so let’s shed the worried glances and dance.

Who’s going to do karaoke of Salt ‘N Peppa’s Push It???

Check out the rest of the Confessions this Sunday over at More than Cheese and Beer and check out her Facebook page for anonymous confessions! Thanks for reading. 

Gotta Have Faith

I decided to go with another Chuck Klosterman Hyperthetical for this week’s Sunday Confession. I talked

about the insane situations Klosterman, one of my favorite authors, developed sort of as a test for who he wanted to spend his time with in a confession a couple weeks ago. I don’t really have any sort of religious faith that I could talk about for this week’s prompt. I’ve already written so often about my lack of faith in the justice system, and I’ve certainly discussed the faith I need to have in myself to get over my body issues, so I felt like I should take a break from those two topics. And, let’s face it, the lack of faith I have in my country’s government altogether is far too encompassing for just one blog post. It would take me weeks of continuous discussions to actually air all my grievances. Instead, I thought I would get a bit off-the-wall but don’t expect my tendency towards heaviness to suddenly disappear.

On to the question…

“While traveling on business, your spouse (whom you love) is involved n a plane crash over the Pacific Ocean. It is assumed that everyone on board has died. But then the unbelievable happens: It turns out that your spouse has survived. He/she managed to swim to a desert island, where he/she lived in relative comfort with one other survivor (they miraculously located most of the aircraft’s supplies on the beach, and the island itself was filled with ample food sources).

The two survivors return home via helicopter, greeted by the public as media sensations. During a press conference, you cannot help but notice that the other survivor physically embodies the type of person to whom your mate is normally attracted. Moreover, the intensity of the event has clearly galvanized a relationship between the two crash victims: They spend most of the interview explaining how they could not have survived without the other person’s presence. They explain how they passed the time by telling anecdotes from their respective lives, and both admit to having virtually given up on the possibility for rescue. At the end of the press conference, the two survivors share a tearful good-bye hug. It’s extremely emotional.

After the press conference, you are finally reunited with your spouse. He/she embraces you warmly and kisses you deeply.

How long do you wait before asking if he/she was ever unfaithful to you on this island? Do you ever ask? And if your mate’s answer is “yes,” would that (under these specific circumstances) be acceptable?”

In a nutshell, this question is asking that under circumstances where my spouse felt he or she was never going to get off this island, would I or even should I maintain expectation that he or she would remain faithful?

This question never even considers what I would have done given the fact that I thought my spouse was dead and never coming back. Would I have moved on or at least slept with someone, gone on a date? It’s highly likely, isn’t it? If I thought this person was never coming back then I don’t think I’d have given up on having sex again for the rest of my life would I? Uh, no. A resounding no. So, how could I care whether or not my spouse had sex on this deserted island with someone he or she obviously formed a close, deep connection with during the most stressful, insane circumstances?

I don’t think this is the question of faith, of having faith in your partner, of being faithful the way it is proposed. Ultimately, how could you expect this person whose life has changed so dramatically to not roll with those changes? What Klosterman really wants to know, I think, is if you’re petty enough to let it eat away at you that there’s a good chance your spouse had sex with someone else under the expectation that he or she would never see you again. What he wants to know is if you’re going to be so consumed by jealousy that you lose sight of what’s actually important—the fact that you actually have your spouse back in your life, that you are once again reconnected to the love of your life, that what was once lost has now been found. It’s not whether or not you’re concerned about faithfulness because the expectation in this situation is for both of you to have moved on. It’s whether or not you’re insecure enough to be more worried about what happened on that island than about having your spouse back.

Would I ask? Never. It’s none of my business. If my partner and I both had a calm, loving discussion once things were settled down about both of our activities while he or she was on that deserted island, perhaps we would talk about it then. Maybe we’d make it through all the changes life has thrown our way—the assumed tragedy of loss, the new experiences, the hardships. Maybe we’d get back on track. If we didn’t, it would never be because I chose to hang on to some idiotic idea of what my spouse should or shouldn’t have done on that fucking island, and I hope that should he or she choose to move on and make a go of it with this person who ultimately saved him or her, their light in the dark,I would understand and wish the two of them all the best.

What about you? Would you ask?

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Synesthesia

I have this boxed set of questions written by Chuck Klosterman called Hypertheticals: 50 Questions for Insane Conversations. I've used them at parties before to try to spark interesting conversations, but it so rarely sparks the intense debate I hope to have. Klosterman said of these questions in Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs that these were the things he would have to know about someone before he could love them... And, I can see why. If a person can really open themselves up to mulling them over and all their possibilities, you can really get to know the way a person thinks, how they process a problem, and ultimately more about them overall. If they won't even bother to open up to the discussion at all, then what's the point, right? Right. Or something like that.

So here's our question.

You are forced to give up one of your five senses (smell, sight, taste, touch, or hearing). However, you may choose to compensate for that loss by means of synesthesia. For example, if you decide to give up your sense of sight, you can choose to smell colors instead. Or if you give up hearing, you might opt to taste music. If you give up taste, you could replace this sensation by hearing flavors. Basically, whatever sense you reject would be reflected through an alternate medium. Which of your senses would you surrender, and how would you replace it?

You have to really be careful with this. It seems obvious that you wouldn't want to give up the sense of touch. Sex, love, romance....none of that would be the same. Being a parent would be different. Those comforting hugs that you need on the shittiest of days would suddenly mean less. Kitten hugs and playing with the dogs... Even being out in the sunlight laying in the grass reading a book.... I hate to make assumptions for people, though, so I'll say that I could never give up my sense of touch.

So that leaves us with taste, sight, hearing, and smell. It gets trickier.

Personally, I could never give up hearing. The power of music is such a driving force in my life, that the very idea of deafness is akin to suicidal ideation. I have this tattoo on my leg, a quote by Woody Guthrie, that says, "There's a feeling in music and it carries you back down the road you already traveled and makes you travel it again. Sometimes when I hear music, I think back over my days and a feeling that is 50/50 joy and pain swells like clouds taking all kinds of shapes in my mind." So much of my memory is tied to songs, artists, albums, genres. And what are we without our memories, without pasts and colorful histories and stories to tell? To give up music by giving up hearing would be to give up much of what makes me, me.

So, now we're down to 3. Sight, taste, and smell.

If given the choice between sight and hearing, I always say sight because I couldn't possibly give up music. Given other choices, though, there's no way even with the synesthesia addendum. For one, as shallow as it is, the way I dress and apply my makeup is an important mode of self expression for me. Without sight, I'd be giving that up. I'd have to completely depend on someone else to express my personality for me or find another way to do so and given how introverted I am, it's doubtful I could do so with words alone. But even more than that, I love the sight of the world around me. Perhaps it's not as powerful as music in my happiness, but it's still high on the list. The beauty of a pink-orange sunset on the South Georgia horizon is humbling. It puts things into perspective at times and fills me with this radiating calm like almost nothing else can.

Smell and taste. Now it's next to impossible.

When I was pregnant with my son, my sense of smell was magnified. It happens in pregnancy at times. I was working in a pharmacy and the odors some people emitted were so strong, acrid, vulgar that I would have to run for the bathroom as quickly as I greeted them. It was terrible. But, could I give up all smells in favor of seeing them or hearing them or some other synesthetic replacement? I don't think so. That sweet, clean smell of soap on skin when you get close to someone is such a rush. The smell of Jasmine any time of day is so soothing and puppy breath makes me smile. Fresh cut grass on a hot day. The bacteria-created heavy scent of a recent rain. Honeysuckle blooming in the spring. Besides, who would want to get visual, audio, felt, or tasted sense of what a person is smelling? I mean...I have a great dane who is really a farting torture machine disguised as a dog. Smelling it is bad enough, but what sort of audio or visual would accompany such a stench? I don't even want to think about feeling or tasting it instead. *shudders* Ultimately, when it comes down to it, I just dont think I could give up the wonderful smells....baking foods, vanilla, old books...just because some horrid ones exist.

So that leaves taste and perhaps I'm the only person that would look at it this way.

I think I would give up taste as I know it now and replace it with visuals. I have a love-hate relationship with food as it is from years of self-esteem issues and an eating disorder. I don't turn to food for comfort or stress-eat, so I don't think I would lose out on much if I no longer tasted anything. It might actually make it easier to eat even healthier. But on the occasions that I had some rich caramels or a decadent cupcake, imagine the visuals--soft, creamy colors blanketing everything. Sour candies with vivid colors or fluorescent ones peppering the air. It could be pretty fucking awesome...like being on LSD all the time without the side effects every time you eat, and I'm down with that.

Leave me all the feels, smells, sounds, and sights. I'll give up taste. What's your answer?

This has been part of Sunday Confessions with More than Cheese and Beer. Check out hers and all the other posts this week. I bet no one else's is about synesthesia, but I'm sure they'll be interesting nonetheless.