Victorian era.

Aaron said during our Friday date that I had a "Victorian sensibility" because I got mildly squeamish when he related for me the "14 Safest Places to Pierce the Human Body." I also winced when he said that he'd be fine with 90 percent of the world's population dropping dead. At one point, he also talked about skinning someone alive and sealing off or worsening their wounds with bleach.

I couldn't figure out how we kept getting on those topics.

But when he called me a Victorian, I related for him tales from horror movies. Johnny Depp's bed sucking him in and then spitting him out all over his bedroom ceiling in "A Nightmare on Elm Street." The guy whose blood is drained from him during "Friday the 13th: Part II" when he's sliced across the torso with a machete while he hangs upside down after getting caught in a bear trap. I didn't get a chance to go into the whole "Sweeney Todd" meat grinder thing, but that's more suggested than visual anyway.

Aaron and I decided to be friends.

(He actually really helped me on Saturday night when I needed a ride home after I'd had too many glasses of Black Label on the rocks.)

But thinking about what he and others have said, I'm wondering if I'm too prudish.

I don't quite care for conversations about pierced genitalia. I have my share of raunchy sex stories, I suppose, but I don't talk about them during lunch or dinner because that's just tacky and unappetizing, generally. And I can't really talk about drugs because I don't really do them, other than the drinking of Black Label on the rocks.

You think you're open-minded. You realize you're not really. You think you're liberal. It turns out that you're just a conservative with exceptions.

I can be really tactless sometimes, so I'm on the fence about this "Victorian" designation.