FAITH, HOPE, CHASTITY…And Let’s Hear It For CERTAINTY !

| March 16, 2012 | Comments (2)

When I was a youth back in the mists of time, many of the girls I knew and went to high school with had up-lifting names like Faith and Felicity, Hope and Charity. There was even one young redhead named Chastity. Her fullname was Chastity O’Toole, if you can believe that !

 She taught me how to jitter-bug and wore a cologne called White Shoulders that drove me crazy. Well, that was long ago when we were fifteen.  Lots of water under the bridge since then, for sure ! But let’s fast-forward a few decades and talk about another friend of mine named Certainty. A really good friend, so reliable, always there when you need him…or is it her ?

Here’s how I came to know Certainty. It’s like this. We were in the Dominican Republic, my partner and I. We had just finished our week-long package tour at Punta Cana Beach. One of those Club Med  holidays, everything included, really everything, even unlimited cocktails by the beach or around the pool.  Everywhere you’d go, something tempting and free was just an arm’s stretch  away. And the food!  Delicious meals with buffet tables a mile long ! It all added up to lots of indulgence.

On the last day after our final lunch, we checked out and waited in the lobby for our airport van to materialize. While cooling our heels, we bumped into a Canadian we had met the night before from Winnipeg who had regaled us with  tales of  his prowess with women,  confiding that success in the bedroom depended on finding that “sweet spot” whatever that was. While he replayed his previous night’s conquests with a local lady he had met through the  hotel bellhop, I found myself going glassy-eyed and needing a siesta. Then suddenly as his tale reached a climax, so to speak,  I felt an abdominal eruption, so violent, sudden and uncontrollable that I found myself drenched in my own fluids, a victim of Trujillo’s Revenge at the worst possible moment imaginable ! 

Without going into gruesome detail, I will conclude by saying, ten hours later, I found myself at home in the South Bronx, having somehow managed to get on the flight, but not without suffering  stares of revulsion and people suddenly moving as far away from me possible. Talk about the  Biblical miracle of the parting waters; when I approached a crowd in the airport, passengers scattered like those pesky jungle bwanas being chased by pre-historic creatures in Jurassic Park !

In the safety of my snug Bronx row house, always near the restroom, I reflected on my Dominican adventure and concluded I had entered a new chapter in my life, a chapter that included a new companion called Incontinence. Laughing ruefully to myself, I recalled numerous visits to Duane Reade Pharmacy when I would mistakenly enter the aisle  containing shelves of adult diapers with names like DEPENDS,  shaking my head and thinking, “Poor, pathetic things who need those unspeakable items.” Now here I was shopping for those very things !

Eschewing DEPENDS because the name implied a reliance I hoped  I could somehow avoid, I selected   a lumpy container  labeled CERTAINTY. Heaving a sigh of relief, I pulled a package of 20 down from the shelf, feeling I had met an old friend who was about to lend me a helping hand. Guide me across the street, as it were, or lead me up the stairs in that dark foyer with the burnt-out lightbulb.

When I got home and ripped open the package for my first fitting. I was pleasantly surprised to find a “garment” that was not only well-designed and functional, but dare I say it, rather attractive and fashionable in its own coy way. With no indication either on the panty or on the container regarding gender specificity – were they for men or women ? – I got an extra frisson of progressive satisfaction thinking they were cutting-edge unisex undergarments, good for everybody. More than a little passing thought had been invested in the design appeal of these mini-culottes; they had a lacy quality bordering on kinky if worn by a man; donned by a woman, they would certainly take on a butch, assertive  aspect that could well be asthetically and sexually pleasing to the right person!

And they fit like a dream even though the “medium” size specified a waist span of 28 to 40 inches !  Although I do not wear them all the time everywhere I go, I tend to  use my CERTS (my affectionate nickname for them)  when I feel there might be a challenging situation I’ll need to cope with.  That is, a lack of “facilities” within easy distance. I have my Manhattan routine down so pat that I know almost every loo in most of the city’s postal codes. And which ones tend to have long lines (Starbucks) and which  are more readily available (Grand Central Station lower level).

Now back on the home front, my 17 year-old diva cat,  Miss Putri, has developed a condition similar to my own and I  spend a good part of my waking hours following her around removing  various spots of incontinence that the poor old lady deposits on my most expensive Kilim carpets.  But there is a certain coziness in our commonality, her incontinence and mine. I thought of fitting her out with a little garment, a feline version of Certainty, but she would have none of it.

So here we sit, me near the John and Putri near her litter box.  Isn’t life grand ? And aren’t the nicest things in life all about sharing?

 

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  1. Petra says:

    You’re in splendid form, Sam. Such elegant writing on such inelegant matters. A fine reminder of how dependent we are on manure in so many aspects of our lives, including storytelling!

  2. Tuesday Rose says:

    I was blase (bla-zay) about incontinence until you brought it up in a funny yet sophisticated way. Being a golden-ager, I’m contemplating wearing ‘serenity’ and living a life of faith, hope and charity!

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