Be a Sponge, and I’ll Squeeze You


This may not work for you but, for me, it’s necessary. When I arise, I strive to leave my bed a dry sponge ready to absorb new knowledge, beliefs, and experiences … oh, and perhaps some wine, thank you. Most people I encounter are saturated sponges. You know what happens to saturated sponges you leave on the sink, right? Same goes for these people — they rot, smell, and attempt to infect.

For example, the whole gay marriage debate. Many sponges have been filled with hate and disapproval by their parents, preachers, and politicians. It’s silly. Squeeze that away. Why have any opinion on this matter other than, “If it makes you happy, go for it.”? It’s basically a preference, isn’t it? Why be concerned about another person’s preference? I don’t care if the woman next to me prefers white wine, brown men, or decaf coffee. Why would I care what she prefers sexually? I may find it interesting. I may not be able to relate to the preference. Heck, I may or may not share the preference. I certainly don’t care enough about it to try to squeeze it out of her.

Another one absorbed in youth is religion. Most people absorb holy water from their parents. That’s fine as long as it doesn’t adversely affect me. I squeezed the Christian religion out of my life because I could not reconcile reality with the stories in the ancient book. I did what the nuns forbade, but what Nature insists upon: I questioned everything. I went to museums, saw evidence of prehistoric man and life forms that existed millions of years before him. I learned about ancient religions, the purposes they served, and how they spread and became other religions. I deduced that the ancient books were simply that: ancient, and not applicable. So, my sponge contains no faith in imaginary beings or ancient customs. If someone wants to live by old rules instead of Nature’s rule, that’s fine too. I’ll take the wine and wafers, and leave the guilt.

Writing is an exercise in taking my dry sponge out into the world and attempting to sop up any goodness that might amuse a friendly reader. This makes me a nice person because, unlike most others who prefer to squeeze their own sponges by bragging or venting, I walk around asking questions and taking mental notes — I’ll squeeze your sponge, Baby.

  • Where do you live?
  • What do you do?
  • Have any kids?
  • What’s your favorite restaurant?
  • Tell me about your worst date ever.
  • Seen any good movies lately?
  • What did you think of The Fifty Shades?
  • How do you keep your skin so soft?
  • Are you a Chargers fan?
  • What is your dream vacation?

Then, once my sponge is saturated, I squeeze it by slapping keys on my computer. This is what comes out. Sometimes it’s difficult to squeeze out and sometimes it stinks. But, sometimes (like this time, I hope) my drops are absorbed and cause a nod, head scratch, or giggle.

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About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.