Enforced Secret Joy #1 - Water Pressure

Thanks to everyone who’s commented on the God’s Secret Joys post below. It occurred to me after reading what you all thought that ultimately, God doesn’t keep secrets from us, so the whole concept of “His Secret Joys” is a little whacked. So THERE, Oswald! You’re WRONG! Ha ha ha.

However, in the interest of trying to add some uplift to the blog in the midst of the whining, grousing, and general grumpiness, I have decided that Fridays will now be Enforced Secret Joys Post Days. If I concentrate on what I think is a potential joy and blog about it, and give thanks to God for it, then I will remind myself that life aint so bad, for the most part.

(and yes, I know how privileged and lucky I am to live in the U.S., to be college educated, to have a job, to have a car, and to live in a house that has central air conditioning and a water/dryer. I know, I know, I know. Blah on you.)

(and maybe, just maybe, I’m procrastinating on my script. Possibly. . Definitely. Shut up.)

So the Debut Episode of Enforced Secret Joy Post #1 – Water Pressure!


I rediscovered this joy at my gym. My gym is a little on the smallish side, and I don’t blame the people who don’t choose to take showers there, but the one stall I was in on Monday had the most AMAZING water pressure going on.

See, the house I rent with Roomie Heckle and Jekyll is old old old, it’s warped, the floor buckles in certain places, plaster is peeling in certain areas, we’re pretty sure that the next earthquake that hits is gonna knock it down on our heads while we sleep and we’re all gonna die. Much much freedom comes from embracing that possibility, by the way. Like, not having to worry about taxes. Or getting older. Or wondering what to get Dad for Christmas. But then the earthquake never comes, and he’s stuck getting more golf balls. Sorry Dad. If you’d just TELL me what you want. “I don’t want anything.” Yeah, yeah, I know.

So the water pressure in the shower at the house isn’t the greatest, and when I stepped into the stall at the gym after my Pilates class and turned the faucet on, I was taken aback at how strong it was. And for a second, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the water needles on my scalp.

I was reminded of how much I dig that feeling. Now, I have pretty masculine tastes and edges to my personality, but there are some things where I unabashedly admit to being a Quintessential Girly Girl, and they are:

1. Dogs and cats.
2. Flowers (but not on my furniture, and if at all possible, not on my clothes.)
3. Bubble baths (with a glass of Chardonnay, and candles, and music and la la laaaaa)
4. Chocolate
5. Patrick Dempsey on Grey’s Anatomy.

And number 6, the feeling of someone running their hands through my hair. Guys, you should know this already, but if you don’t, FOR GOD’S SAKE, RUN YOUR HANDS THROUGH YOUR WOMAN’S HAIR! SHE LOVES IT! SHE REALLY DOES! It releases some sort of Happy Hormone thing, I’m sure there’s a medical journal about it somewhere.

I was once cuddled up with a guy in the afterglow and he reached up and smoothed my hair back from my forehead. “Mmmmm, I love it when you do that,” I murmured. He smirked and said, “You realize I can never do it again, though, if you’re expecting it.”

DO NOT BE THAT GUY! SMOOTH HER HAIR BACK FROM HER FOREHEAD! RUN YOUR FINGERS THROUGH HER HAIR! WATCH OUT FOR TANGLES! IT MAY HAVE BEEN A BAD HAIR DAY! BUT DO IT ANYWAY! MAKE LIKE A PHRENOLOGIST AND RUB HER HEAD! GENTLY! SLOW CIRCLES! MAKE IT CASUAL! EVERY SINGLE TIME! GO DO IT NOW AND COME BACK TO THE BLOG! OH, AND GIVE ME CREDIT! JUST KIDDING!

What is it about that act? Besides the obvious sensual/sexual aspects of it? I think comfort’s a part of it. Maybe everyone’s Mom did that to them as a kid, so we equate it with nurturing, comfort, Somebody’s Gonna Take Care Of Me kind of thing. There’s also a certain aspect of…what am I trying to say. Control? Authority? It’s a power move, but it still relates to the whole Somebody’s Gonna Take Care of me. I can take care of me 99.9999999% of the time, but every now and then, I want that feeling that someone else could take the wheel. Jesus! Jesus take the wheel! Jesus! Run Your fingers through my hair! Ha ha ha.

Anyhow, that feeling rocks, and water pressure on my scalp is nifty cool keen. It’s a joy. Thank you God, for the gym, for the shower, for the water pressure, for my scalp, for the feeling of water needles on my scalp, for my hair, for the men who have run their hands through my hair in the past, thank you for the ones that will do it in the future. And yes, God, I know that I'm perfectly capable of running my own fingers through my own hair, but You know it's just not the same. It's like cooking your own gourmet three course meal and eating it alone. Better with someone. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Amen.

There. Back to the script!