by Thomas Locke
“You had sex with her didn’t you?” I didn’t immediately answer my best friend’s query and took a brief pause in shame. Now, mind you, my shame was not one of betrayal or humiliation. The romantic partner in question is my drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend of seven, going on eight years.
No, the shame in the answer to this question was because the query was in response to me telling my best friend that I was sick with the virus which definitely did not spread from a certain virus study intensive lab in a country that would prefer that we really don’t jump to conclusions about how the said virus may or may not have originated.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“I tell my wife, she just doesn’t understand the power of the male sex drive,” he responded.
In my defense, that hadn’t been my intention. I knew that my girlfriend was sick, symptomatic even. I knew that because of her position as a health worker there was a damn good chance of it being that non-lab leaked virus. Still, in my defense, she gets tested twice weekly and at that point was posting a negative result. Since my girlfriend lives an hour away across state lines I only get to see her every other week. I decided that I’d chance a visit to lift her spirits and bring her some of my world-famous homemade chicken noodle soup.
Upon my arrival, I noticed that she was indeed running a low-grade fever. I put the soup in her fridge and looked at her wistfully. I knew that common sense dictated beating a hasty retreat. It was not that simple. I looked at my pretty girl, her sickness not mitigating her comeliness one bit. Missing this week was going to put me two weeks before seeing her again. My brain did dizzying computations and forecasts. My girlfriend and I are of the great unwashed masses who (for one reason or another) will not accept the jab. I calculated the chance of survival of Covid, I calculated the percent reduction of the severity of Omicron versus the natural immunity that would be gained. I ran all possibilities that I could fathom, and three-fifths of a second later I leaned in and kissed her.
She arched her eyebrow, a look that said, you know what you’re doing. Yes, gentle reader, I did, in fact, know what I was doing, and cooties or not, my girlfriend was getting kissed. As things progressed, she looked up at me and said: “I hope it’s worth it.”
Now, I did stop at this point, but only for a moment. I knew that I had already crossed the line and exposed myself. Now, you can call it being selfish, but just like I am want for company after weeks of not seeing her, so is she. I was able to provide company, comfort, and chicken noodle soup.
Considering how Omicron has spread like wildfire throughout our population, I can think of much worse ways of contracting it.
The old movie Airplane! (Great movie by the way) had a scene where a tv personality was offering a point of view on the disaster. “Shana,” he intoned. “They bought their tickets, they knew what they were getting into. I say, let ‘em crash!” I most definitely bought my tickets, but it occurred to me that we aren’t being allowed to do that anymore.
Freedom isn’t pretty, it isn’t neat and it doesn’t fit nicely in a box. It shouldn’t make you feel comfortable when you look upon it. Sometimes in being free, you pay the consequences for your choices. You collect the stupid prize for playing stupid games and you understand that you most assuredly bought the damn tickets.
I’m saying all of this because a recent Rasmussen poll showed that of democrats:
59% are in favor of house arrest of unvaxxed, while 45% are in favor of internment camps for unvaccinated.
Guys, that’s not how this America and Freedom thing works. All of you that have the vaccine, great! I’m glad that’s worked out for you. Now, let the rest of live our lives or die off without trying to fit us into your little boxes (or internment facilities). You’re safe right? That’s why you got boosted again, right? Just keep on feeling superior about yourself and don’t worry about us.
Please, stop worrying about us.
We’re doing just fine with our stupid prizes that we bought the tickets to.
My girlfriend said: “I hope it’s worth it.”
I can safely say.
I regret nothing.
© 2023 The Havok Journal