Followers

Total Pageviews

2011/05/14

Perspective: A Minor Hair in the Salad of Life

Life is all a matter of perspective, right? When you think about it, you can justify and rationalize almost anything when keeping in mind all the things you have previously experienced, provided you’ve eaten a big slice of life.

So, I’m at work and short on time. I decide to drop into the cafeteria and grab a ready-to-go salad and eat at my desk. This is a little bit of a hassle, because salads always involve a little bit of work on my part; I have to cut everything up – not quite to the level of a chopped salad, but I basically refuse to risk getting salad dressing all over my face due to an over-sized piece of lettuce. I know, I know…when you consider some of the things that have been on my face – what harm could a little salad dressing do? But it’s something I will do my best to avoid, if I can. So I take my salad back to my desk and dump it into a Tupperware bowl in order to maximize the amount of room I have to work with. Soon, the salad is all chopped up, I’ve added the dressing, and am just about to dig in when… my eyes catch sight of a tiny, black curled hair hanging off a dressing drenched piece of lettuce.

It’s not mine.

It wasn’t in the bowl before I put the lettuce in it, either. No one else sits at my desk or uses my stuff, so I have to assume that the offending hair came from the person who prepared and packaged the salad which sits before me.

Now I have to make a choice. Do I…

A/ Walk back to the cafeteria and complain, possibly getting a different salad, only to return to chop and ready it all over.

Or

B/ Remove the offending hair and eat the salad.

Hmmmm. What would Jesus do?

I know a lot of people would walk back to that cafeteria just to complain and feel that their voice was being heard. Good for them. Depending upon the magnitude and possible ramifications of a given error on the part of another, I, too, have chosen that route.

But we’re talking about one, single, tiny hair.

Think about. Think about all the times that you have eaten in a restaurant without being 100% certain that the entire kitchen and wait staff at that restaurant have carefully washed their hands before preparing or coming in contact with your food. The answer would be – all the time. We trust people who prepare our food to do the right thing and assume that our personal hygienic standards will be met wherever we choose to eat, at all times. But realistically? That’s not the case, and if you are a reasonable person, you know that’s not the case. Still, you continue to eat out. You even explore restaurants you have never been to before. We do that because we have faith in the system. That, and we don’t feel like cooking.

So given that, how is that hair in my salad that big of a deal? Because I see it and can do something about it? Sure, but what about all the unseen things that we have all consumed without knowing about it? Getting rid of that hair? Problem solved (and maybe throwing away that piece of lettuce it was stuck to would be a good idea, too).

And in my case? That piece of hair represents no big deal at all when I take into account all the little hairs belonging to strangers I have probably swallowed over my years as a total slut. When I think about the dicks that have gone down my throat and in my ass and rubbed all over my body – really, what is the big deal about that single black hair in my salad?

Yeah, I know… this is gross. But then, so is sex, when you really think about it, especially sex with total strangers. I used to think people were just being prudish when it came to anonymous sex, but from a hygienic perspective, I can see their point. Just as in the case of my pre-packaged salad or any meal prepared in any restaurant - you don’t really know what you’re buying, and may never.

So, I guess it all comes down to faith. We trust that people are always going to do the right thing. We trust that they will always put the safety, needs and expectations of others first. We go to a restaurant we expect the employees to wash their hands after using the bathroom. We expect them to wear hairnets and take reasonable care in order to prevent foreign objects from falling in our food and befouling our plates.

And when we have sex with strangers and they tell us they are drug and disease free, we, wanting to have sex, want to believe them. That’s a form of faith, too.

But people lie. All the time.

So, the results of my complete STD drug screen came back this week.

Negative. All good. No problems.

Really?

Yeah, I know, I have a hard time believing it, too. Especially after the many men my body has been exposed to.

But it’s true.

Part of me is relieved and part of me still doubts. And all of me has decided to make some changes.

No penetration. No unsafe sex. Lots of showing off. Lots of masturbation. Maybe some masturbation in the presence of others. Maybe some frottage – jury is still out. Maybe some kissing – jury is still out.

But no penetration - with or without a condom for awhile. Not sure when that ban will be lifted, but that decision has given me a sense of ease that I have not felt in a long time. It’s like all that pressure is off. I only have to sculpt those parts of my body hair that I want to sculpt. The douching thing is off the table. The constant worry about STDs – over there on the other side of the room for now. I can breathe and recapture my mojo. Maybe. I can definitely breathe. The mojo part? Age and gravity may have something to say about that.

My workouts have gotten better since I stopped having compulsive sex. I feel stronger. I sleep better – especially now that I’m not on those hook-up sites any longer. Something about being on the internet to that degree causes my brain to become over-stimulated, like a kid on a sugar high. I’m also more relaxed about some things…

…like finding a hair in my salad.

I can’t make any promises to myself or others. At this point, it’s one day at a time and I realize the only person I am going to disappoint if I don’t keep my commitment for awhile is me. So, we’ll see how it goes. One day at a time.

As for that salad?

Oh, yeah, I ate it.

No comments: