Once upon a time, there was a girl:
The girl was hungry all of the time. She was starving.
One day, her stomach churning and growling, she walked past a large, neglected-looking house. She saw a cherry pie cooling on the kitchen window sill:
Her throat in her heart, the girl stole the pie. It wasn’t wrong, she reasoned, because she was starving.
“The family in that house can make another pie any time they want,” the girl told herself. “I need it to live.”
After that, whenever she was hungry, the girl would find a neglected-looking house with a pie in the window and take it. Living on pies wasn’t nutritious for the girl. She often felt tired and run-down, but the pies sustained her.
Time passed. Through struggle and good fortune, the girl aquired a house of her own. She had access to a supermarket and money to buy food. She even baked a pie for herself, now and again. It was a lot of work.
Then one day, walking home from work, the girl passed by that old first house, and there was a cherry pie cooling in the window.
She felt hungry. She knew she could go home and bake herself a pie. She realized, however, that she had acquired a taste for stolen pies and for pies stolen from that window sill of that house, in particular. They were so hot and steamy and so sweet and juicy, and she loved the adrenaline rush she experienced as she crept up to that handsome window on all fours, red checked kitchen curtains billowing in the breeze. She longed for the satisfaction she knew she would feel when that crust and those cherries were hers.
But was it wrong?
If stealing pies hadn’t been wrong when the girl was homeless and kitchenless and hungry, how could exactly the same behavior be wrong now? Is it the action that is inherently wrong (in which case stealing a pie would be wrong even if you were starving to death), or is it the circumstances that determine whether what you do is immoral?
But if that is so, how can a behavior that never hurt anyone in the past suddenly hurt someone now?
“Those people never missed their pies before. Why would they suddenly miss them now, just because I have a kitchen and and oven and an Albertson’s card? ” the girl rationalized.
I think that maybe the girl has a good point.
♥
“Detective Curt,” I wrote in an e-mail to my favorite married sex-mate on Sunday morning, “I think your penis must have ESP.”
He had e-mailed me maybe a dozen times over the past six months. The last time, I told him that I was in a relationship (with Donny) and wanted to be a good girl.
Donny and I broke up on Thursday, and Detective Curt e-mailed me on Sunday. It’s like his penis knew I was panicking that there was no pie.
♥
When I was married and starving, and Detective Curt was a delicious slice of pie, I saw nothing immoral in sleeping with him. But now that I’m single, would seeing Detective Curt again be wrong? I’m on the fence, or, let us say, the window sill. Should I eat the pie, or not? I’m jonsing for a slice of peanut butter pie.
Mora
Filed under: Detective Curt, pie, cheating, divorce, love, married man, sex
I say go for the pie. Nothing wrong with having a good time, as long as you know that’s all it is. As you’ve said before peanut butter is highly nutritious, a-and tasty!
I’m afraid I haven’t kept track of who is who. If DC was the one who got all grumpy when you said you’d two-timed him (with Donny) I would say stay away. Otherwise, everyone needs playtime.
PL
ps: theif -> thief?
I’m on a diet. But only you can judge what’s right for you. And I think you have.
You’re writing is as brilliant as ever, babe. Keep feeding us.
However, Perfectlips is right (of course she is) . . . I before E, except after C.
Oh man, ya gotta love that stolen pie..
PL, Detective Curt was my very first affair. He never was grumpy. (That was No-Nickname Mike.) I wouldn’t call Detective Curt a pilar of loyalty and friendship, but he was very good in bed.
Joe, I hate that WordPress doesn’t spell check post titles! This is the second time I’ve done this.
How is that diet going, anyway?
And thank you for the incredible compliment.
Dr.: Stolen pie can be lovely, but am I beyond that now? Should I be?
30 lbs. and counting
[...] know, I never quite got him out of my system. And now, I’m free to cut myself a piece of peanut butter pie. [...]
As long as you are honest with yourself and your expectations, go for it.