My interaction with the acupuncturist last week reminded me of the time I went with some friends to see a psychic. My best friend was getting married, and we were too old for drunken dares and scavenger hunts. A plastic penis necklace is really not all that funny when you’re 22. By the time you’re 30, it’s just weird. So we decided to see a psychic and then get some wine. I was in charge of this outing because of my “best friend” status.
Trouble was, I didn’t know any psychics. So I looked in the phone book. In fact, psychics do advertise in the yellow pages. I had to leave several messages before anyone called back. Apparently, returning messages in a timely manner is not on the list of credentials to call yourself a psychic.
We finally made an appointment. The woman was a little fuzzy on the time of arrival, while extremely clear on the terms of payment: cash only. She saw clients in her home. It was in a fairly upscale neighborhood, certainly nicer than my home at the time. It gave the impression reading palms paid pretty well.
When we got there, she insisted we come back for our readings one at a time. This was to ensure that the room wouldn’t be cluttered with extra spirits. Apparently, doing a reading like listening to an old FM radio, and you don’t want to be on the dial between two stations.
When it was my turn, she asked to hold a piece of jewelry to get the vibrations from it. I gave her a costume ring I wear sometimes. I wasn’t taking any chances with my wedding band, just in case. I mean, you never know.
She said my aura was missing a color. My “white” was blocked. According to her, this meant I was missing my purity. I didn’t want to argue with her, that seemed like poor manners, but I wasn’t missing my purity one bit.
She had a cure for what ailed me. She offered to “time travel” (I did not make that up) and find where my purity had been lost and restore it. I began to wonder if we were both working off the same definition of “purity.” I was already married with a child at this point in my life. I’m pretty sure we weren’t fooling anyone.
Also, it wasn’t any secret to me where my purity had gone. I knew the time and place I’d given it up. I was a willing participant in the event. I didn’t really think the details were her business, and certainly didn’t require the $500 she wanted to time travel in search of it.
I thanked her for her time, and paid her for the session. When I told Charlie the next day about my impure situation, he was very concerned. “You told her I’m not the slightest bit interested in you recovering your purity, right?” I assured him I was just as dirty as always, which is a good thing. It’s hard to determine which would have upset him more: the loss of $500 or my slutty frame of mind.