Important Anatomical Distinctions between Rectum, Requiem, and Erection

At my age, it’s easy to get confused, and only sometimes fun

Image collaged by author on Canva.com

Thank you, T. Kent for reminding me I, too, used to get rectum, requiem, and also, erection, mixed up.

Even though they don’t look alike, they sound alike. Kinda, sorta.

But my rectum is part of my anatomy. Even though I’m female. Something we all have, for better or for worse. Usually for the better.

‘Cause, what goes in must come out. And soon. Or they’re gonna wanna go in after it. And that’s no fun.

Please don’t get enema and enemy mixed up. Even though an enema feels like an enemy, if or when you really need one, they are suddenly your best friend. Do you understand without me having to spell it out?

Okay, I’ll spell it out. E…N…or M….another E…sorry, I couldn’t resist!

Back to my rectum — It’s not an erection. We used to play with erector sets when we were kids. And sometimes we’d say we erected ’em. Which sounds more like rectum than erection so go figure.

I started to write, I don’t have erections that I’m aware of. Okay, I did write it. I can hear my inner editor saying do or don’t do. There is no start.

If arousal is the same thing as erection, then I do have them. Fewer and farther between, but still. I do. But thankfully, mine are more discreet than the hello, here I am! flag-waving kind guys get.

Why the stark gender disparity? I think Mother Nature’s just doing her job to ensure the survival of the species. She wasn’t taking any chances.

What about requiem?

It’s not even a body part. Though there is a connection that my proctologist pointed out. Trying to get me to sign up for a colonoscopy. He said it’s to ensure we don’t have to hold a requiem for my rectum. Or at least, delay that day for as long as possible.

Growing up Jewish, I did not know from requiem. Or reliquary. It’s all Latin to me. The only Latin I knew was pig Latin. So If he’d said, eqiuem-ray, or eliquary-ray, I might have gotten it. But no. Those words died without leaving a trace.

Chastise and Castrate

These words don’t sound all that much alike.

But I still got them mixed up as a teenager — a teenager who frequently got chastised for doing or saying the wrong thing. Like singing Black Boys are Delicious from the musical Hair while washing dishes when company was over. I’m sure it was because I was off-key.

I got chastised for telling my dad I was no longer his little duck or chick or kid or girl. I was a young woman and please call me that. He did not appreciate being ridiculed. So I got chastised.

But I got even with him.

One day, in front of a living room full of people he did something egotistically foolish with his drunk self. And tripped, landing sprawled out on the floor. Pretty much taking up the whole living room.

Castrate him! I yelled proud of the turnaround is fair play irony.

Until someone took me aside and whispered in my ear.

Oops.

But hey, since his hands went where they weren’t welcome, let’s just say I was embarrassed, but not sorry.

Photo by h heyerlein on Unsplash

Necromancer vs Necrophilia

I still have a hard time with this one.

Because if necro means dead, and philia is love, wouldn’t a necromance be the foreplay for that? You know, like buying flowers and bringing chocolates?

Except for well, they’re dead.

Oops.

Necromancers aren’t folks foreplaying with the dearly departed.

According to Merrium-Webster, they “conjure spirits of the dead for purposes of magically revealing the future or influencing the course of events.”

Nothing sexy about that. Unless the dead get off on playing matchmaker. Now I see why you’d need a necromancer to set Susie and Sammy up on a blind date. If Susie’s dead Granny Mary (sorry Gary!) called from beyond the crypt, that might spook her out of agreeing to meet Sammy for a latte, let alone harder stuff.

Necromancers don’t even have to truck with the dead.

They can just be your entry-level wizards or sorcerers. Or maybe even the magician you hired for your kid’s last birthday party with his transparent tricks that even the kids saw through.

And I don’t mean sawing through a lady. I mean the past tense of see.

There. My intention was to write this out so I’ll do better remembering all these picky, picky, picky verbal distinctions. If I made you laugh, my necromancy worked!