The peril of self-control

One second I am kissing someone’s lips. One second I spinning out on the highway. The next second the lady at the donut shop is calling me sweetie and the Catholic school-boys still look at me as if I am delicious. These are all great things.

One second I want a married man, the next he disgusts me. I can see how both are right. One second I want him because his wife is a PhD and has everything and I have nothing. I want to steal what they have and appreciate it more than she ever would. The next second I think I better not. I better not. I want to be married some day. What goes around comes around.

One second I flirt with a cute, Catholic, bisexual the next I argue. ‘Why!!! Men and women have perfectly complementary body parts!!!’ I say, ‘but, with the ass and you can’t tell the difference.’ He says ‘It feels even better.’ ‘But, breasts.’ I say, ‘cannot be replaced or simulated’ ‘well, some men have those too but they look much better on the women. You’re right.’

‘And…And well, tell me, your friend there, how will you enjoy him tonight?’ he says. ‘He is my friend, friends, that’s all’ I say ‘Have you known him biblically? ‘He is Jewish, no new testament. The Catholics have a bible though… I hear.’ ‘And the Catholics do it with guilt!’ I go home alone, he goes home alone, good for me. One second I have my pride. One second I have my dignity. The next second I have nothing more to talk about.