I go to a wonderful acupuncturist. She knows that I don’t necessarily believe in the power of my “chi” and that I am a western-centric client. But, I am open to ways to feel better and balance my body. That’s why my acupuncturist is terrific. She doesn’t try to change me. She works with me as I am. And I have mellowed over time. I now take vitamins, fish oils, have healthy foods in my office, etc.
When I leave my office for these appointments, I tell my assistant, “I am going to get pricked like a pin-cushion.” I keep my blackberry out during the sessions — a negotiated concession from my acupuncturist — and, in response to a flurry of anxious emails, I emailed to my colleague, “do you need me to pull out the needles and run back to the office?” I was perfectly willing to do so because I am a professional first and a pin-cushion second. And I knew my phrasing would make my colleague queasy and weak-in-the-knees (for which I get a slightly perverse kick). This colleague asked me once if I believed in the good effects of acupuncture and I responded, “Nah, but it can’t hurt — too much.”
I have gotten to know my acupuncturist some, and so I need to know about her life and if she is happy. So, I have to ask, “so, are you seeing anyone?” Her response: “I still haven’t found the right person.” The use of “person” means (i) she is being politically correct/sensitive to my being gay or (ii) she is intentionally obfuscating whether she is looking for a man or a woman. But, the vibe is definitely hetero. Still, I ask, “man or woman or gender irrelevant?” because I might know someone for a shitach (a match) and I want to get the gender right. And my gaydar has been wrong in the past.
And, once, years ago, I was talking to a “straight,” ultra-religious woman who started a conversation about finding a husband (for her). In the midst of the conversation, she said to me, “how hetero-centrist of you to think that I am only interested in men!” “But you are interested in men,” I said as I was thinking something is off because she knew I was gay. “To marry, yes,” she responded.
After about a two-second pause, I realized the implications of the statement and that it was time for me to run, run like the wind. And I did. All the way home to my beloved. I am my beloved’s and she is mine. There are no ooky parentheticals or provisos to that statement.
What did this last story have to do with my acupuncturist? Nothing, really. But where I end up is rarely related to where I started, at least when I am not being a lawyer.
