I like giving blood. If you take all the actual masochists and cutters out of the search, you'll have a tough time finding someone who likes to give blood (or as often) as I.
It caters to my duality at its core... Acting immature in a mature way... Actually enjoying the juice and cookies earned from a very unselfish act... However laying on top of all this is the metaphysics confirming that because I delight in the unselfish act, it ceases to be purely unselfish.
And of course, giving blood gives me yet another opportunity to interact with strangers. The following is a short true occurrence from a couple visits ago to Lifesource, the state of Illinois blood donating facility:
(Originally written 9/13/2005)
I am not really good at this, but I'm 72% sure that Miss Lifesource was hitting on me, and wanted more than my blood.
Number one, she insisted on grabbing my thigh to "steady" the paper she was writing whatever bloodsuckers have to write on top of me.
She was literally sweating, saying she was nervous and faked calling in another tech to make the needle stick, saying she "didn't ever want to hurt me" but then said, "I'll treat you well" as she did it. Later she was really pressuring me into "making a date" to come back "because she wanted to make sure she'd be working that day.
Anyways, I was happy to break my current streak of only getting hit on by men in the past 12 months.
