Pass the Lexicon

I used to go to a storytelling group on Tuesday nights in Cambridge. The following is a story written and told for the forum.

A few years ago I had a chance to go to NYC with my girlfriends. We were all in our late thirties and early forties. And married. Very married, I might add. Sex and the City would not be an appropriate description for the weekend we spent in the Big Apple. We were definitely more like: Abstinence and the City.

But, even though we were practicing abstinence, AND WE WERE, the subject of sex entered our conversation many times. Who knew that this was what thirty/forty somethings talked about? On their weekend away? OUT LOUD?

I kept waiting for my mother to arrive and tell us to quiet down.

I squirmed in discomfort while my friends talked about all the really wild places and ways that they had done IT. In alley ways. On steps. Probably without flossing.

Not wanting to be left completely out of the action, I finally admitted that I had done IT --with the lights on--ONCE.

We also talked about SEDUCTION. Could we be seduced?

Which led us each to confess the ONE THING that made us vulnerable. The ONE THING that would make us lose all sense of reason and decorum. The ONE THING that could make us send traffic cones flying to the left and right like Diane Lane in Unfaithful.

We were in agreement on this ONE THING: IF we ever actually met a man who could make a plan. That included DETAILS. A man with a plan with details and FOLLOW THROUGH. Wellllll…we pretty much would be crumbs in the bottom of the marital toaster.

It is either a man with a plan---or chocolate-- for me. I KNOW that I can be seduced by all manner of chocolate. M & M’s with peanuts or without peanuts, Reeses Peanut Butter Cups…creamy, smooth, delicious…see even talking about chocolate makes me weak in the knees.

In fact, I know so deeply in my heart that I can be seduced by chocolate that I make it a point to go through the candy-free check-out at Shaws. I cover my eyes when I walk past the candy aisle and I know better than to leave myself alone in a room with anything even resembling a Cadbury egg.

Seriously though, one friend thought she could be seduced by a man who could dance. A man who could spin her around and trip the light fandango. A man who could match her steps to his. And, if this man could look like Denzel Washington, then she would toss all caution to the wind.

The other friend thought maybe she could be seduced by a certain tone in a man’s voice. I don’t know a lot about exact nature of this “tone,” but I think that it is safe to bet that Lenny and Squiggy will never seduce her. And neither will Michael Jackson.

That night I joked about the chocolate. And I might have joked a little about Sean Connery, (WHO wouldn’t be seduced by Sean Connery?)--but I know, whether I admitted it to my friends or not, that I am seduced daily by words.

Words. The grand and glorious mongrels of the English language. For years, I have collected articles, quotes and bits of poetry. I am voracious when it comes to words. I cram little snips of this and pieces of that into the corners of my mind. A clever phrase. A touching sonnet. Fragments of life.

Words like obstreperous, diaspora, divagation, gerrymander, naif and viff all twitterpate me faster than you can say, "Bob's your uncle." I am guilty of word adulation, adulteration and alliteration. Words. All shapes and sizes. All denominations and ethnic backgrounds. I am pretty much a word whore.

There. I have admitted it. I will be faithful... until you pass the lexicon.