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The Naughty Bits

Valentine’s Day is quickly approaching, for many it is a day that reminds us to show the people in our lives how much we love them. For others it’s a day contrived by the greeting card industry in order to force us to buy each other chocolates and flowers. I am somewhere in the middle, having always enjoyed the cards we got in school growing up and also having received some pretty amazing Valentine’s Day presents in my life. But I also had a boyfriend in high school that broke up with me right before Valentine’s Day to just ask me back out right after; he just didn’t want to buy me a present. And I really couldn’t blame him, why should we be forced to show our love on a certain day of the year? As I have gotten older I feel it is more meaningful to show your love on the day of your choosing, but I am getting ahead of myself.

Love gives our lives meaning in whatever form it manifests. It gives our life stories beauty and also tragedy, but that doesn’t make the story interesting. The thing that gives our life stories flavor is those naughty bits. Valentine’s Day is about lust just as much or maybe even more than it is about love. And my life is not short of naughty bits. So in ode to St. Valentine, I share a couple of my life stories centered on that deadly sin, lust.

If you know me personally, you might know that I am not shy about how I feel about men. One could say that I might even objectify them from time to time. That being said, it would not come to a surprise to know that during my time at university I frequented the male strip club. And it is at this male strip club where my first “naughty bit” unfolds.

I had decided to take one of my friends on her first trip to the strip club during my senior year. It was just the two of us, and it might even have been a week day. As I was getting all my dollar bills ready, we needed to decide where to sit. We chose to sit near the door that leads backstage, that way we were able to get maximum contact with the strippers without having to pay more money. Our location was paying off well, as we interacted frequently with the men that were coming off stage. Popular music of the day played in between sets, which for the early 2000s in Miami, was Reggaeton. As my favorite song of the time came on, I started dancing and singing at the top of my lungs, as a man who looked like a maintenance man walked past me. The song cut off quickly, only allowing me to get a line or two out, before it was changed. Seeing my reaction, the man stopped and asked me if I liked that song. I thought it was obvious I did. He then walked backstage. The next performer came on, and I had forgotten about the encounter…the lights were dimmed, and then the spot light hit. A man was on stage, dressed as a maintenance man, his back to the crowd. He turned and pointed directly to me as my favorite song, Wisin y Yandel’s Rakata, blared through the sound system. I completely lost it; I just got a song dedicated to me by a regrets.

This next one is kind of raunchy, so read at your own risk. Also, family…sorry ahead of time. In 2008 I was lucky enough to be invited to the wedding of one of my best friend’s sisters. The wedding was in Sao Paulo, Brazil and promised to be unforgettable. So, of course I agreed, got my visa, hopped on a plane with my friend and the cases of duty free Johnny Walker we had bought for the wedding. Another friend would join some days later, and it was after her arrival that this next story takes place.

We spent most of our nights gallivanting around Sao Paulo, eating, shopping, going to clubs and just being young and crazy. It was on one of those young and crazy nights that we decided to do something you could consider down right stupid. In large and seedy Latin cities you can find just about anything you are looking for and Sao Paulo is no exception. So one night after eating some sushi, my friend had the “great” idea to go to the section of town with the male prostitutes, just to see what was out there. So, slightly inebriated, the five of us packed into the car and drove to find some male prostitutes. We rolled up slowly looking at the “merchandise” as my friend was becoming quite disappointed. He had higher hopes for what we could find, and right when we were about to call it a night he spotted a cute blonde man in white washed denim. My friend decided that tonight’s adventure would end with us taking pictures with said prostitute. So that is what we did, making sure that the prostitute was aware that we would not pay him anything, we had our own little photo shoot with the prostitute. Some photos were PG and others were not, a crazy and stupid night, but completely unforgettable.

Life is not only full of love, it is full of passion and stupidity and desire and all those naughty bits. As wonderful and treacherous as love can be, sometimes we all need a little lust in our lives, that little oomph to get us through the day. I hope your Valentine’s Day is full of love in all its forms, but more importantly I hope your Valentine’s Day is full of naughty bits. I hope passion sweeps you away into complete absurdity and that your day is full of spice that makes your life truly unforgettable and unregrettable.

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