Just thought I’d use a spin on the title of the popular contemporary erotica novel in order to get your attention. Unfortunately for those of you who were hoping for some kind of parody or homage to that novel, I actually know nothing about it and this entry will actually be about my colour blindness (something I don’t believe I have mentioned on here before).
My favourite colour is beige and, since 2008, every pair of socks I have bought has been beige. As such, when I needed to buy some new socks in the winter of 2011, the ones I decided to get were coloured beige. I bought two packs, each of them had three pairs in, and so overall I had six pairs of socks (I don’t want to impair my mathematically challenged readers). They weren’t all coloured Standard Beige though, in fact, there was a kind of spectrum for each pack: one pair Light Beige, one pair Standard Beige, one pair Dark Beige. As such, I had two pairs in each colour.
That sounds simple enough right? Well maybe it is for all of you Colour Non-Blinds, but for me, that’s a real challenge. Sometimes, I’ll have six of the socks with me, but amongst them I won’t be able to find one pair. This is pretty strange considering the fact that there HAS to be a pair there. But no, it often looks to me that every single sock is a different shade of beige. I have to stare really, really closely at two pairs, and eventually it’ll be clear that they are the same, but oftentimes I’ll get it wrong and end up wearing odd pairs. What’s particularly strange is how some days I’ll see them all as different colours (and hence see more colours than are there, despite being colour-blind) but then other days they’ll pretty much all look the same… I think that that is quite interesting philosophically, at least when it comes to differing perceptions of reality.
But, anyway, I’m feeling guilty about the misleading title; there are only twelve shades of beige at most, which is nowhere near fifty. Here’s a red hot erotic story to make up for it: a couple of people (you choose the gender for each of them) meet. They slowly become closer and closer. In the end these best friends fall in love, start a partnership and consolidate it with a hug. Aww.
My favourite colour is beige and, since 2008, every pair of socks I have bought has been beige. As such, when I needed to buy some new socks in the winter of 2011, the ones I decided to get were coloured beige. I bought two packs, each of them had three pairs in, and so overall I had six pairs of socks (I don’t want to impair my mathematically challenged readers). They weren’t all coloured Standard Beige though, in fact, there was a kind of spectrum for each pack: one pair Light Beige, one pair Standard Beige, one pair Dark Beige. As such, I had two pairs in each colour.
That sounds simple enough right? Well maybe it is for all of you Colour Non-Blinds, but for me, that’s a real challenge. Sometimes, I’ll have six of the socks with me, but amongst them I won’t be able to find one pair. This is pretty strange considering the fact that there HAS to be a pair there. But no, it often looks to me that every single sock is a different shade of beige. I have to stare really, really closely at two pairs, and eventually it’ll be clear that they are the same, but oftentimes I’ll get it wrong and end up wearing odd pairs. What’s particularly strange is how some days I’ll see them all as different colours (and hence see more colours than are there, despite being colour-blind) but then other days they’ll pretty much all look the same… I think that that is quite interesting philosophically, at least when it comes to differing perceptions of reality.
But, anyway, I’m feeling guilty about the misleading title; there are only twelve shades of beige at most, which is nowhere near fifty. Here’s a red hot erotic story to make up for it: a couple of people (you choose the gender for each of them) meet. They slowly become closer and closer. In the end these best friends fall in love, start a partnership and consolidate it with a hug. Aww.
