What I know. Where's Dumbledore's penseive when I need it? I want to go back to my naivete. I want to live life like a soccer mom, blissfully unaware of what the 'lucky pierre' is. I want to not know people who have had more sexual partners in one weekend than I have had in my entire life. Or at least if I know them, I don't KNOW that fact. I don't want to know about these robotic sex machines* - way beyond the average vibrator. I want to think that woman on top is pretty wild, and if I'm REALLY looking for something exciting, I'll read Cosmo. I don't want to know that the excessive acne on a homeless guy is a sign of probable heroin addiction.** I don't want to know that the crazily sunken cheeks that I see on people on the streets is a result of the HIV medication they are taking. I want to think that sex with my huband twice a week with a 3rd time for special occassions is pretty good. I don't want to have to justify myself to anyone about why I don't think one night stands are good things. About why I'm not running right out and hooking up with every guy who looks twice at me. It isn't that I want to live life like an ostrich with my head in the sand, but honestly I'm content with some ignorance in my world. Yet, in a strange twist of irony, Matty P wishes he only knew what I know. That's a little bit sad to me.
* Totally Moral Turpitude's fault. He sent me a link one day. If I had any idea, I wouldn't have clicked it.
** I didn't actually know that until tonight. I was observing a gentleman outside Starbucks and MP asked me why I was watching him and I said that I was wondering what it is that causes that much acne on a probably homeless guy and MP told me probably heroin. So that one is 100% my fault.