Someone Lost His Shirt….

…both figuratively and literally.  I presume he took a taxicab back rather than risk police scrutiny on the subway (assuming that he could hail a cab, half-naked and wild-eyed as he was…and the marks on his flesh probably did not inspire much confidence from strangers).  I bet the cab driver snapped on a pair of surgical gloves and fetched the Lysol out of the trunk 10 seconds after his passenger vacated his vehicle. 

      Maybe the fellow honestly thought I was gambling when I proffered the wager.  If so, he either doesn’t know me well (but then again, who does…?) or else he was in male lust-induced lala-land. (Men make fantastically bad choices in lust-induced lala-land, and I don’t think that saying that is sexist, condescending, or derogatory. It is just purveying the obvious.) 

       Or, more likely, he accepted the wager and fully expected to lose.  To win would have been a bit of a letdown.

      I can relate to the feeling.  I played Scrabble once with a handsome Org Psych professor.  He was twice my age and he annihilated my agitated, embarrassed game with ease (I had been so confident in my vocabulary, and so eager to make a good impression!).  It was like being at the Alamo.

      It seemed that he was only halfway concentrating on the game (which made it even more humiliating for me), but I do remember him commenting, more than once, on the way that I kept staring at his hands.  I don’t imagine the answers are in these hands of mine, Miss Margo, he would say, and smirk.  By God, I’ll never know, but my radar is very very good, and I’ll be damned if that man was not a sadist, practicing or not.

      That Scrabble game was one of the sexiest experiences I had that year.  After it was over, of course.  That’s one of the mysteries of masochism–sometimes it’s very exciting while it’s actually happening, but oftentimes the thrill comes afterwards, in the memory.  This is what makes the satisfaction so enduring.  Nobody actively enjoys the twentieth mile of a marathon, when they are sweating and shaking in pain.  The pleasure comes afterward…and it will always be there for you.  Like education, it is one of the only things in life that nobody can take away from you.

      And I’ll never forget that professor, or his hands.

      Perhaps yesterday’s guest will share this perspective.  Who knows?  But I enjoyed myself tremendously, and I wish him all the best.

I’m modeling the shirt in the image below.  Like they say: pics, or it didn’t happen.


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