So this is what death feels like.

Many people say that sex is the single most trust-requiring act on the planet. You are the most vulnerable you will ever be when you are having sex.

To them, I say clearly they have never had a root canal.

As I sat in the dentist's chair yesterday, his rubber-gloved hands busily sticking needles into my teeth, I thought about how much this didn't resemble sex, and how much it definitely required trust. I don't think you are ever in your life more vulnerable than when someone is grinding a power tool into your mouth, that magical cavity of speech and song and sandwich-eating that could be destroyed with just a slip of the wrist. Well, perhaps surgery compares.

But think about it. You are (one hopes) much more likely to know the person you have sex with than the person you give license to drill into your head, unless you found both in a phone book (Governor Spitzer, anyone?). You can tell the person you have sex with to stop if it hurts, and you can charge them with a crime if they don't. Not only do dentists just push right on through that pain, but nobody can accuse a dentist of assault because the drilling hurt like hell. That's expected. And unless you let your fingers do the walking through the Yellow Pages, you don't have to pay for sex, but you are expected to lay out hundreds, perhaps even thousands of dollars for a few hours of the dentist's time. I'm paying a total stranger $1,875 to take a power tool to my teeth for two hours?

That's trust, baby.