So this chum of mine, for the first time in his life, is about to abandon glasses for contact lenses. During his last attempt to transition to contacts he'd view the world, with every blink, upside down — which, while kind of neat, was understandably disconcerting. Back then, apparently, contact lenses did not adjust to someone's particular astigmatism.

But, as you know, technology marches on.

Before now, this chum of mine only removed his glasses to sleep, to shower, and for sex. Clearly, before now, sex, for my chum, was inevitably something of a squirming pink blur; and, naturally, more a haptic experience than anything else. Then again, who knows, I may be in the minority when it comes to copulating (the precious few times that I have) in broad daylight or with the lights left on. This, mind you, is not necessarily a preference of mine; no, it is not as if I am afraid of the dark, and it is not as if I am concerned with misaiming at anything; it is simply how one thing has often, as you may know, led to another.

Anyway, anyway, few, myself included, have ever seen this chum of mine sans spectacles. Publicly, he has been, for many, many years, "in disguise," as it were — indeed, as a "Superman" of sorts, sans cape, sans bullproof-iness, among a few other minor details. But, nonetheless, a "Superman" in his own special way. And while he is a gentleman — at least, to be sure, more of one than I am — he is certainly no prude.

In any case...

"Without my glasses," this chum told me, "it's like I'm making love to the world."

This aforementioned proclamation sent me into an uproarious fit of gasping-for-breath laughter. But it was, perhaps, most regrettably, one of those "Had To Be There" moments. Thus, you have my gratitude for suffering through it.

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