X-Rated

Back in the day, long before the Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill event in DC, people used to talk about their personal lives (very personal lives) freely, without fear of losing their jobs.

Take for instance when I used to work at North Coast Industries, a small clothing manufacturer in Sausalito. Our work environment was open - a large room filled with desks and drafting tables for the designers. We "business-folk" sat at the desks and whiled away our time working with sales people, merchandisers, marketers and designers.

During that time, we chatted freely as we worked - and especially during lunch, full-fledged yak sessions occurred about the weekend past and the one forthcoming. These discussions included the benign and the sexy.

Of course during that time I was in a new relationship where anything and everything was possible. And I shared. And shared. And shared. I'm certain now that had we used the expression "TMI" it would have been used each time I shared, and then some. But, those were the days.

So yesterday, I received an x-rated email from John at work which said... (can't share), but which reminded of the time back in the day.

So when I got home from work, rather than going out to see the first blockbuster of the summer, Iron Man, we (can't share)...