I Like Germs
I remember taking a break from a long drive with a bunch of friends one year. We were driving in a van either to or from the coast in Oregon and had stopped to stretch our legs, do some cartwheels and eat lunch. I sat on a curb with my friend Josh and we passed an apple back and forth taking bites out of it. It felt so comfortable and like something I didn’t have to think about. I was living really far away from my family at that point and I missed that kind of platonic intimacy.
I haven’t smoked an actual cigarette in years and even then, I was never a smoker. But, sometimes my best friend and I will be driving around in the summer and the windows are down and there is a great radio rap song playing (e.g. Cam’ron “Hey Ma”) and she’ll just like, know, and reach her hands over in front of my face so I can take a puff of her cig while we’re at a stoplight.
Not caring about someone’s germs means you have passed some relationship milestone and are now comfortable.
It’s like kissing a guy when he’s been outside or something and he’s really sweaty. It’s supposed to be gross, when you can taste sweat in your mouth and smell it. But, it’s a very human thing to do and I like that. It’s vulnerable to have your body be doing things you aren’t in control of, especially if they aren’t considered attractive. You have to acknowledge that you aren’t perfect. It takes strength to do that, to let someone see you imperfectly instead of running to the shower.
Sharing germs isn’t a rational thing to do. You can get sick from it. People might think you are gross. That’s probably why I like it. I like feeling connected to the entirety of a person–the physical and the emotional and the rational. It means there’s more to me than what’s rational. I’m not supposed to be all Answers. Which, is kind of the point.