A New Intimacy

Because I used to be a stripper, I sometimes think I know a lot about intimacy. I became expert at cultivating the dance of longing, the tease without release. I can go on at length about how those who are frequent clientele and those of us who've worked in the sex industry have intimacy issues. The flirt is easier than the reality of being close to someone.

I also like to believe that I've learned from and perhaps worked through my own body politics, hang ups, and fetishes. I'm all about live and let live.

Every now and then during my days working the pole, I'd cultivate a regular or two who were doctors. They got a certain kick out of telling me the Latin names of the different body parts I was exposing, hiding, or contorting on the stage. I'd smile at their cleverness, while inside, I didn't really care how the muscles of my arms and hands worked to swing me around the pole. It was all, well, Latin.

Now that I'm learning all those Latin names myself, seeing how all the parts move and work together, discovering bones in my body that I never knew existed, I finally get it. We are miracles! Really, just the way the muscles all work together to flex and articulate our hands, how the metacarpals and phalanges all work together to help me type these words, is just amazing.

I'm palpating my classmates and myself to find bones, muscles, tendons, and nerves. The funny bone? It's not funny, and it's not a bone. It's the ulnar nerve.

I'm re-evaluating those former clients who thought they were seducing me with their big, clever doctor words. I'm thinking about the me I was then, just trying to earn some bucks to pay for my writing habit and an MFA in creative writing.

I had already put myself in a box, unable to understand their language of intimacy, their own discovery of the miracle that lies beneath our skin. Turns out it was kind of sexy after all.