Whore

Things are very "stormy" in the country at the moment, and I'm not talking about the weather.

In following the Stormy Daniels case, I recently read an article where she stated, "If you're a woman, you'll be called a whore one day." To your average reader, this inflammatory comment might seem insensitive at best, but to yours truly, I was aroused (pun intended) simply because of the immense truth it holds.

That fateful day came for me many years ago, and conveniently perhaps, at the hands of one of my dearest friends. In his mind, my salacious adventures to date had been explanatory simply because they involved men of a certain ethnicity. Traversing that racial barrier, however, was unfathomable and unforgivable.

This blog has certainly served as a memoir of my journeys, near and far alike, but that day was a turning point for both of our lives; one from which there was no going back. I was now a whore.

Mercurial

I've always liked the word "mercurial," because though it's sometimes (only sometimes) an apt description of my disposition, it doesn't have the heaviness of similar constructs, such as volatile or temperamental. Instead, mercurial invokes curiosity, mystery. And who doesn't like a little mystery in their day?