Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder...and the mind go yonder by Emily Moorehead That's right. I'm not having sex. In fact, I haven't been having sex for over four years now. I have worked it into a sort of art form, not having sex. And do you know what? It's takes a lot of patience to maintain this particular art form. So, what is it caused me to cease my rambunctious bedroom activities (not to mention all those erotic displays in other parts of the house)? Well, as Tammy Wynette so succinctly put it, D-I-V-O-R-C-E. That and the fact that nowadays it's better to abstain than risk the many sexually transmitted diseases out there in the big, wide world. Personally, I'd rather catch a snooze than a bug. When I was in college, it was pretty near impossible to die from sex. Oh, sure; stories were bandied about regarding this or that "old" person who gave up the ghost while doing the horizontal bop but that was about it. However, when AIDS hit the news, "I love you to death" took on an entirely new meaning. Most people began to take a new look at prudishness. Now, rather than worry, I count it among my reasons to abstain. "Are you nuts??" you might ask, "aren't you about to explode like some dormant volcano??" Well, as a matter of fact, no...okay, sometimes. But I figure when I finally decide to do my impression of Mount St. Helens, I may as well be doing it with someone I love and not as a casual exercise in satisfying my libido. Yup, gone are the days when I'd flirt myself into a steamy situation, and those days are never to return thanks to the miracle of becoming older and wiser...and the desire to continue to become older and wiser. Then, there's menopause: yes, let's not forget "the end of the curse" as my mother was fond of calling it. That dirty word of women over thirty. That womanly distinction keeps me fairly tame as well. I have visions of being in a warm embrace when suddenly a hot flash will break through, and I will drench my unsuspecting partner with an ocean of unwanted perspiration. Now there's romance for you. I suppose I could swallow scores of hormones but really, after four years I honestly don't care anymore. Okay, maybe a little. But an interesting offshoot of my self-imposed abstinence is that the energy I used to channel into romantic adventures is now spent in other creative areas. In the past four years, I've learned wood carving, jewelry making, lapidary, gardening, guitar, piano, the way to keep my car in perfect running condition, hiking, camping, carpentry, plumbing, and how to make 153 killer omelettes. Plus, there's the Internet: all those chats, all those message boards, not to mention my online freelancing. What am I complaining about?? Well...I do miss the soft, sensual caress of a lover's hands, the slow and sweet kisses of an attentive partner, the comfortable cuddling in the afterglow, the--- Okay, gotta stop talking like that. The main reason I abstain is really quite simple: no one has caught my attention, captured my heart, stirred my intellect and interest enough to "give it up": it's a sort of reverse virginity that I practice. The real truth is I am simply far too much of a hopeful romantic to just wander about for some fleeting physical release. And, as Mae West allegedly phrased it, "I can do it better myself and I ain't got to dress up." Hell, I never liked formal affairs anyway. © 2000 by Emily Moorehead. All rights reserved. Please do not copy in any manner, print or electronic, without permission from the author. However, the link to this page may be freely shared. |
Bring Me Your Lonely... Your Friendless...Your Hungry by Kristin Dreyer Kramer When you work alone at home, you learn a few things about the solitary life. For instance, you learn that no one notices if you come to work without showering. When no one's looking, it's perfectly acceptable to eat meals consisting solely of dry breakfast cereal scooped out of the box with your bare hands. And, when you really need some human interaction, you learn where to hang out by yourself without looking like a complete loser. I've found that the mall is the best place to go alone. More specifically, the mall's food court. It provides every bit of adventure that I could ask for. Important Decisions When I walk into the food court, I'm immediately faced with a critical decision: Where will I eat? Should I go with the stuff that's supposed to be Chinese, the stuff that's supposed to be Mexican, the stuff that's supposed to be Italian, or the stuff that's supposed to be hamburger? The decision I make will set my path for the rest of the day. I could spend the afternoon in fatty happiness or in painful cramps. The choice is mine -- I must choose wisely. A Listening Ear Once I make my decision, I get to have a conversation with the friendly young person behind the counter. He or she will listen to my needs (a huge double cheeseburger no tomato) and will then follow-up with questions ("You want fries with that?"). Then my friendly fast food fairy in the paper hat will call up the powers of the kitchen minions, who will satisfy all of my culinary desires in exchange for $82.19. Yes, I have the power to make those troubled teens in hairnets prepare anything I want, as long as it's on the menu and they have a picture explaining how to prepare it. A Crowd of Companions After I've received my meal -- on a convenient tray -- I'm free to sit wherever I want. I've found that it's best to choose a seat not already occupied and/or not covered in ketchup. And since there are so many seats squished closely together, it's hard to tell if I'm alone or a part of a big, friendly group of people. No one knows the difference (though we all know that all of us are alone and pretending not to be). Fascinating Friends As I munch on my tray full of fried grease and wash it down with liquid sugar, I have the opportunity to be a part of the lives of all the fantastically unique people around me. I can watch as the woman to my right scratches a stack of lottery tickets with the intensity of a scientist who's about to discover the cure for cancer. Then I can try to figure out which language the man to my left is using to speak to himself (rather loudly, I might add). My food court friends are so much more interesting than my real friends! Superiority The best part is knowing that I'm not such a loser after all. I didn't just spend my last $50 on lottery tickets and a small Coke. I don't talk to myself -- at least not in public -- or in a language that could possibly be Klingon. And I'm not as fat, ugly, and/or criminally insane as these other people around me. Yet. But if I keep hanging out at the food court, anything can happen. I don't have to spend too long there before I feel much less lonely and pathetic than I did earlier in the day. It's a good thing, too, because it's best to hurry home before the cramps set in. Kristin Dreyer Kramer likes to call herself a Word Wizard, though she's really just a Starving Artist -- and the editor-in-chief of NightsAndWeekends.com. She can be reached for questions, comments, gushing praise, and generous donations at krdrkr@hotmail.com. © 2002 by Kristin Dreyer Kramer. All rights reserved. |
Bring Me Your Lonely... Your Friendless...Your Hungry by Kristin Dreyer Kramer When you work alone at home, you learn a few things about the solitary life. For instance, you learn that no one notices if you come to work without showering. When no one's looking, it's perfectly acceptable to eat meals consisting solely of dry breakfast cereal scooped out of the box with your bare hands. And, when you really need some human interaction, you learn where to hang out by yourself without looking like a complete loser. I've found that the mall is the best place to go alone. More specifically, the mall's food court. It provides every bit of adventure that I could ask for. Important Decisions When I walk into the food court, I'm immediately faced with a critical decision: Where will I eat? Should I go with the stuff that's supposed to be Chinese, the stuff that's supposed to be Mexican, the stuff that's supposed to be Italian, or the stuff that's supposed to be hamburger? The decision I make will set my path for the rest of the day. I could spend the afternoon in fatty happiness or in painful cramps. The choice is mine -- I must choose wisely. A Listening Ear Once I make my decision, I get to have a conversation with the friendly young person behind the counter. He or she will listen to my needs (a huge double cheeseburger no tomato) and will then follow-up with questions ("You want fries with that?"). Then my friendly fast food fairy in the paper hat will call up the powers of the kitchen minions, who will satisfy all of my culinary desires in exchange for $82.19. Yes, I have the power to make those troubled teens in hairnets prepare anything I want, as long as it's on the menu and they have a picture explaining how to prepare it. A Crowd of Companions After I've received my meal -- on a convenient tray -- I'm free to sit wherever I want. I've found that it's best to choose a seat not already occupied and/or not covered in ketchup. And since there are so many seats squished closely together, it's hard to tell if I'm alone or a part of a big, friendly group of people. No one knows the difference (though we all know that all of us are alone and pretending not to be). Fascinating Friends As I munch on my tray full of fried grease and wash it down with liquid sugar, I have the opportunity to be a part of the lives of all the fantastically unique people around me. I can watch as the woman to my right scratches a stack of lottery tickets with the intensity of a scientist who's about to discover the cure for cancer. Then I can try to figure out which language the man to my left is using to speak to himself (rather loudly, I might add). My food court friends are so much more interesting than my real friends! Superiority The best part is knowing that I'm not such a loser after all. I didn't just spend my last $50 on lottery tickets and a small Coke. I don't talk to myself -- at least not in public -- or in a language that could possibly be Klingon. And I'm not as fat, ugly, and/or criminally insane as these other people around me. Yet. But if I keep hanging out at the food court, anything can happen. I don't have to spend too long there before I feel much less lonely and pathetic than I did earlier in the day. It's a good thing, too, because it's best to hurry home before the cramps set in. Kristin Dreyer Kramer likes to call herself a Word Wizard, though she's really just a Starving Artist -- and the editor-in-chief of NightsAndWeekends.com. She can be reached for questions, comments, gushing praise, and generous donations at krdrkr@hotmail.com. © 2002 by Kristin Dreyer Kramer. All rights reserved. |
...I have the power to make those troubled teens in hairnets prepare anything I want... |
Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder...and the mind go yonder by Emily Moorehead That's right. I'm not having sex. In fact, I haven't been having sex for over four years now. I have worked it into a sort of art form, not having sex. And do you know what? It's takes a lot of patience to maintain this particular art form. So, what is it caused me to cease my rambunctious bedroom activities (not to mention all those erotic displays in other parts of the house)? Well, as Tammy Wynette so succinctly put it, D-I-V-O-R-C-E. That and the fact that nowadays it's better to abstain than risk the many sexually transmitted diseases out there in the big, wide world. Personally, I'd rather catch a snooze than a bug. When I was in college, it was pretty near impossible to die from sex. Oh, sure; stories were bandied about regarding this or that "old" person who gave up the ghost while doing the horizontal bop but that was about it. However, when AIDS hit the news, "I love you to death" took on an entirely new meaning. Most people began to take a new look at prudishness. Now, rather than worry, I count it among my reasons to abstain. "Are you nuts??" you might ask, "aren't you about to explode like some dormant volcano??" Well, as a matter of fact, no...okay, sometimes. But I figure when I finally decide to do my impression of Mount St. Helens, I may as well be doing it with someone I love and not as a casual exercise in satisfying my libido. Yup, gone are the days when I'd flirt myself into a steamy situation, and those days are never to return thanks to the miracle of becoming older and wiser...and the desire to continue to become older and wiser. Then, there's menopause: yes, let's not forget "the end of the curse" as my mother was fond of calling it. That dirty word of women over thirty. That womanly distinction keeps me fairly tame as well. I have visions of being in a warm embrace when suddenly a hot flash will break through, and I will drench my unsuspecting partner with an ocean of unwanted perspiration. Now there's romance for you. I suppose I could swallow scores of hormones but really, after four years I honestly don't care anymore. Okay, maybe a little. But an interesting offshoot of my self-imposed abstinence is that the energy I used to channel into romantic adventures is now spent in other creative areas. In the past four years, I've learned wood carving, jewelry making, lapidary, gardening, guitar, piano, the way to keep my car in perfect running condition, hiking, camping, carpentry, plumbing, and how to make 153 killer omelettes. Plus, there's the Internet: all those chats, all those message boards, not to mention my online freelancing. What am I complaining about?? Well...I do miss the soft, sensual caress of a lover's hands, the slow and sweet kisses of an attentive partner, the comfortable cuddling in the afterglow, the--- Okay, gotta stop talking like that. The main reason I abstain is really quite simple: no one has caught my attention, captured my heart, stirred my intellect and interest enough to "give it up": it's a sort of reverse virginity that I practice. The real truth is I am simply far too much of a hopeful romantic to just wander about for some fleeting physical release. And, as Mae West allegedly phrased it, "I can do it better myself and I ain't got to dress up." Hell, I never liked formal affairs anyway. © 2000 by Emily Moorehead. All rights reserved. Please do not copy in any manner, print or electronic, without permission from the author. However, the link to this page may be freely shared. |
...when I finally decide to do my impression of Mount St. Helens, I may as well be doing it with someone I love... |