Hey gang, I know I’ve been pretty quiet -uh, inasmuch as I’m ever quiet– recently and it’s not because I’ve stopped loving you or I’m just trying to shill merch. I mean I totally AM trying to shill merch (mama gots to get paid) but you know I could never stop loving you.
I’ve had a death in the family (don’t say “I’m sorry for your loss” I HATE it when people say “I’m sorry for your loss.” as if you left out the “for your loss” part I’d be wondering if you’re just really late in apologizing for confusing a Balenciaga sleeve for a Laura Ashley one.) and it looks like another one is eminent, so uh, you know. I got other stuff to do.
Listen, I can’t write a great treatise on death. I can’t even write a great treatise on remembering to pay your phone bill on time, but I can say that regret is a son of a bitch and the less you have of it the better. So speaking as someone who spends more than her fair share of time dealing with death and dying, I’ve got a few thoughts I want to share. Ready? Okay!
Have more orgasms.
Seriously, just do it. Have ’em by yourself, have ’em with a friend, I don’t care. Just don’t shuffle off before you get off. And I’m not saying be promiscuous, or skank it all over town, my position has always been: be thoughtful about the people you take to bed, but your body can do some fun stuff and it’s a damn shame if you don’t take it for a spin on a regular basis. If you’ve got difficulties in that area, address them. There are a like bazillion medical reasons getting your rocks off is good for you, but mostly it’s just good fun and there’s no reason you shouldn’t.
Really what I mean is be more harmlessly self-indulgent.
I can’t remember where I read it, but in an interview, Karl Lagerfeld once said he was his own greatest indulgence, and that it was only by indulging himself that he could indulge others. Well, as much as it pains me to do it, I have to agree with Herr Karl. Self-deprivation for its own sake is pointless and it’s showy. That’s right, I said showy. Don’t be a martyr unless you’re actually going to be, you know, a martyr. Fun is not wrong or sinful or a sign of depravity. It’s a gift. Refusing that gift is rude, not to mention a passive-aggressive swipe at everyone in your life who manages to be a good person AND enjoy a cocktail or twelve. As trite as it is, you’re not going to die wishing you had less fun. Or fewer orgasms.