Open Letter to L.

I'd given some thought to what you said which, I know, was partly in jest, and yet deserves some clarification. About a seemingly perverse propensity toward sleeping with people we hate.

We're good enough friends that I don't think you'll require justification from me for any sort of reasonable, non-injurious conduct, nor a defense of my moral rectitude, and yet, at the same time, I'd like to know that you don't think such inclinations come from some juvenile desire to be perverse or contradictory. In fact, I'd like to think it comes out *integrity* and *consideration*. But Lisa -- allow me to be rather frank. While I don't disagree with the ethics of 'no harm, no foul' with which I conducted myself all those years ago, I do now try to live with increased consciousness that's beyond right and wrong, and more along the subtler lines in which I ask myself -- assuming, of course, that we've already bypassed right and wrong -- "helpful or unhelpful? is it productive? is it a good use of time? is it a contribution to my life? is it a wise thing to bring into my space? what issues are behind this? am I solving a symptom or an illness? where is this going?"

I met exactly such a type of young man yesterday. The assistant who helped my physical therapist, and in fact, helped me perform the greater part of my workout. A sly, snide, sneering young buck, smug and cheeky. I think, my dear, you know the type. Flirty, and looking to stir up some sexy-ish discord, if you will. Good looks & standard charm? Mildly. Beddable if a persyn were single. But no one with whom to choose lumber, make a down payment, bring to friends' or mothers' hospital bedsides, or bring you bags while you vomit badly cooked filet mignon. When I say 'hate,' Lisa, I don't mean a persyn who tortures kittens or has secret meetings at Harvard to continue Legacy admission or burns crosses on lawns in their spare time. I mean, someone who - on the whole - is probably a decent persyn; only perhaps is someone so full of themselves that you couldn't stand sharing oxygen for more than two hours; may likely to have a neat trick or two in the sheets, and won't think about you for more than 36 hours if you decide you could happily live out the rest of your life without seeing them again. No harm, no foul -- yes. A good use of time? No. Learn Latin, go swimming, check your portfolio, do laundry instead. That's the real difference between 17 and 26. Too tired to - no pun intended - screw around. More accurately - too little time to put cash into assets that don't pay.