Sex, Food, Booze, Other Stuff

In New York after 9/11 I saw a lot of people do a lot of stuff they normally wouldn’t do.  Things like hooking up with people they normally wouldn’t hook up with, eating and drinking and otherwise intaking substances of a kind and quantity they normally wouldn’t, and generally going a bit wild. Kind of a celebration of beating death, kind of a misplaced grieving — mourn quickly, party hard.

Plus the buying of stuff that promised the feeling of safety.  Like the hazmat suits I bought for my then-boyfriend and myself, which he informed me would take too long to get on if we got hit.  “We’ll be dead before we get one arm in that thing,” he said.

“Oh,” I said.

“Well if we do get hit with a bioweapon do you really want to be around after anyway?” He consoled me.  And I wasn’t sure. 

But today, with this pandemic, my answer is: “Heck effing ya I want to be around after this is over, whenever that will be.”  

And I am grateful to have a partner who tells me yes.  Yes we will get through this.  Yes we want to be around after all this.  

We want to get through this sanely, safely, healthily, together, one day at a time.  No we don’t need to buy a “survival camper,” or another freezer, or even plant the veggie beds in case (thank goodness).  

If I want to have a little fantasy world-might-be-ending nookiefest he’s cool with that.  But otherwise, relax and breathe normally, stay the course.  

Stay home, wash hands, eat healthy, exercise enough, not too much, see friends (on video), enjoy what there is to be enjoyed, help others.  It’s that complicated.  I’m gonna give it a whirl.  I’m gonna keep going.

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