I’ve been brought to my attention that I may have misrepresented myself in yesterday’s post. If you haven’t read it, please go ahead and do that now. That’s okay, I’ll wait…

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Evidently, there is some evidence to suggest, that in spite of my own perceptions of my personality, I might actually be, in fact, a prude. I suppose it all depends on how one defines the term. As stated in my blog yesterday, I’m not offended by much (racial slurs …misogyny …Philip Seymour Hoffman), nor do I hold people to high standards of propriety. I’m non-judgmental as a rule. That’s not to say that I’m not occasionally taken by surprise by acts of audacity, but surprise is fundementally different than indignation. I compared myself to a definition of prudishness which would require self-righteous affrontedness of other people’s behavior and I found myself innocent of the charge.

 

But there is another definition to consider. Actions speak louder than words, and my actions are all too puritanical. For example, though I’m happy to drink when occasion arises, I can count the number of times I’ve ever been truly drunk on a single finger. Coincidentally, “one” is also the number of cigarettes I’ve ever puffed, and it was being shared by four of us, so actually it was ¼ of a cigarette, which technically rounds to the nearest integer as “zero”.

 

I’ve never so much as held a bong or joint to my lips, much less inhaled. I do admit to some second-hand-smoke contact on that front, but the sheer repulsiveness of the odor of marijuana will keep me from ever taking a puff. It must be my own perception of the odor, else I can’t comprehend as to how popular this plant has become smelling so terribly. I imagine a wine-aficionado taking a long thoughtful hit… “A very full flavored herb, rich with an aroma of dirty gym socks, and a hint of sweaty butt crack.” Nevertheless, I suppose people do more wretched things to get high… Any other narcotic, for example. …and I’ve even heard tell of teenagers smoking cow poop for a methane high.

 

To continue the investigation into my priggishness, one would have to examine my love life (which we won’t do here… at least not in detail). My romantic life (back when I had one), is all very classic. Undeniably similar to the the local conservative anti-gay-marriage bumper-stickers that still don the backsides of yellow-ribboned vehicles in our state: “One Man + One Woman”. (I met a man during this campaign who was thinking of having a rebuttal bumper sticker made that read “One Man + Two Billy Goats”) It’s not a matter of principal for me, I’m perfectly fine with gay marriage, and homosexuality in general is not offensive to me. However, I neither have attraction to men nor livestock, and no need for more than one woman, so my equation and the bumper-sticker’s remain the same. …though mine is a personal preference and the bumper-sticker is a rudely suggested mandate for everyone.

 

Put this all together, and I fear that it does indeed indicate that I am prude. Damn! I have no strong desire to be a moralist, yet I’m not really interested in changing the elements of my life that categorize me here. You’d think that it’s not a big deal, that this is the “norm.” But when I think people in my social circle, I realize that I’m the stuffiest of the lot. I can think of two dozen libertines with no effort at all, but I’m hard pressed to find half as many on the other side of the coin, even after rifling through my address book (though the church directory was invaluable!).

 

It feels so unusual to be so “majority”.