Variety is the Spice of Life
Dee was meant to take that literally
Variety is the spice of life.
Dee was meant to take that literally.
Born to a couple who grew up in the 60s, being hippy-dippy, exploring, loving and leaving, and being chill about everything from sex, clothes, money and their child was their jam. When a young Dee showed signs of being too cooped up and too serious and too worried about germs and clean water — they pushed her into their backyard and made her play in the sand and build sandcastles on the beach and stand in the rain and feel life as it flowed all over her.
Feel everything, they’d say. Feel, touch, enjoy, live to the fullest.
But that wasn’t Dee at all. Disorderly didn’t come naturally to Dee. And she didn’t want it to. She didn’t do haphazardly. She liked being organized. She liked the scissor and the nail clippers and her shoes in their right places. She liked her bookshelf in order and alphabetized by the authors’ last names.
She picked up after her parents as they changed and left behind clothes and underwear strewn about for all to find. “Undies are a part of life!” they’d exclaim when she got embarrassed. “Go with the flow, child,” they’d exhort.
From running a chicken farm to selling organic eggs to opening a store that sold jewelry and self-made art that no one bought — Dee’s folks were able to stretch her father’s disability benefit to not work and ‘try different things’. They put food on the table, picked her up from school, bought her 3rd and 4th hand clothes, and decided that was enough.
It wasn’t.
Dee tried her best but her definition of best needed more. She needed order. She would never, not ever — wear second-hand clothes — ever again, in her life. No hand-me-downs. And no weird no-career-is-the-best-career like her parents either.
For every business that failed because her parents didn’t know or care about numbers (profits and loss are for the masses, child, they said), Dee decided to get her degree and work with numbers. Numbers had order. Numbers represented safety. Numbers would never let her down. The numbers were clear and stark. Numbers would become her best friend. So, she worked and worked and got her degree in accounting.
Before she knew it, she had a mortgage on a house, a steady job, all fresh and brand-new clothes to wear, organic and nutritious and clean food on the table, Friday nights out at the pub with friends… well, with colleagues who were friendly, a few dates if she didn’t bring homework on Saturdays and cleaning, laundry, cooking and freezing her lunches and dinners for the whole week on Sundays.
And then, rinse and repeat.
She was happy and proud of her life. She was 26 and had everything she’d ever wanted.
And she was totally and completely bored.
And started to yearn for a life she’d had a chance to live but had dismissed her whole life. Life was chaotic, incomplete disarray most of the time, they went places and did things that were different from all her friends who lived sedate and ordered lives but life with her parents had bever been boring. But, at 26, Dee was realistic enough to know she couldn’t just ‘wing it’ and wear eye-assaulting gypsy skirts in all shades of reds, greens, and blues and strum the guitar and sell home-made pots (yes, that’s what her parents were up to now) at local bazaars.
She needed to do something — anything — to break the rut.
And decided that having sex was it. Having lots of it. It was the one thing that she did like — as did her parents — having sex. Unlike them, she hadn’t had a lot of it but the few times she’d had it… it was sublime. In her infinite wisdom and clinical logic, she decided that the best way to break up her boredom would be to have more sex.
Once the decision was made Dee took quick action. She called a few of her ‘friends with benefits’ before she changed her mind and made dates to enjoy more of what she felt she needed. She set up three nights with three different men during the upcoming week.
She felt naughty and slutty and excited.
And she desperately wanted to confide.
When Dee’s mother picked up the phone, she was… pleasantly shocked to hear her daughter’s voice on the other side. Once Dee assured her that ‘Nothing was wrong’ and ‘No, ma… you and dad didn’t do anything stupid this week’ — Dee’s mom relaxed and mother and daughter did some ‘shooting the breeze’ for a while. Then Dee did what she’d called her mom for — confided in her. And explained about the three dates she’d set up for the week.
“Fantastic!” Her mom trilled. “Finally, you’re having fun!” she chuckled.
“I’m not being too slutty?” Dee asked, almost too scared to listen to her mom’s response.
A quick pause later Dee’s mom said gently, “No. Not slutty. Honey. You’re not meant for a carefree life like me and your dad. But you need to live a little.”
“But…” Dee tried to interject.
“No buts,” her mom said firmly. “You’re meant for the one-guy and the happy ever after. But you need to try a few before you make that decision. You’d try 100 different dresses before you bought one, right? So, if being slutty — which you’re not — in the present to find the one for the future is the way to do it, then go for it! After all…”
“After all, what?” Dee asked curiously.
“Variety is the spice of life, no?” Dee’s mother giggled.
