Playful, elegant, and not above the judicious use of the word “shit."

Carpooling with Co-workers

For those of you who are not familiar with the antics of dooce.com, I’m going to exercise my latent parental tendencies here and issue a warning: the following post contains delicate subject matter most likely to include references to various body parts and activities in a most un-Mormon and un-Catholic manner. I may even use the word FUCK. You’ve been notified.

On my commute home from work yesterday evening, I found myself involved in a conversation about masturbation and sexual awareness with a male co-worker. Funny how our generation flagrantly disregards all the work that’s been done to ensure that the workplace is a non-hostile environment free from sexual harrassment. We all talk about sex at one point or another, whether it be in our cubicles, around the table at lunch, or as in the case here, in our carpools home. Who can resist? We spend so much time with these odd people who normally wouldn’t even be on the fringes of the group we call acquaintances. If you can’t talk about sex with these people, well then, you’re basically stuck talking to yourself in the bathroom. And believe me, it’s lonely in there.

So there I am on Fairfax Blvd, headed north toward the Hollywood Hills, describing to this co-worker I hardly know how the sex scene in Purple Rain between Prince and Apollonia played a distinctive part in my sexual awakening. “I remember her lace panties and the way his hands were moving all over her body. There I was at 9 years old closing my eyes and pretending that I was Apollonia.”

Unamused and barely stirred he offered, “Purple Rain was filmed entirely in Minneapolis. I’m from Minneapolis.”

“I mean, from all the memories I have of 4th grade, this one is the most vivid. And now whenever I hear that soundtrack I feel an overwhelming sense of innocence. Ironic, don’t you think?”

“Sometimes it gets really cold in Minneapolis,” he said, completely ignoring me.

“I think the next milestone in my sexual awakening would have to have been the sex scene between Tom Cruise and Kelly McGillis in Top Gun. That Berlin song, so delicate and appropriate for that scene with the curtains flowing and light shimmering and the tongues and the necks, still makes me eager to fuck a man a military uniform.”

“Tom Cruise is gay.”

“Do you have to rain on my sexual awakening parade?”

“It rains a lot in Minneapolis.”

Lessons learned: A co-worker who listens only to punk and hard-core will most likely not sympathize with your affinity for Prince, unless your co-woker is from Minneapolis, in which case he will pretend that he is listening only to humor you. He will also find it difficult to utter the words “hand” and “ejaculation” in the same sentence.

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