I’ve been seeing this guy. I mean that literally. No senses, other than the visual, have been mutually stimulated in our brief courtship. We met via an online video-chat program, and have spent all of our intimate time together there, in an 800 x 600 pixel box. He lives in Washington, and is like all of my obsessions: hairy, receding hairline, chubby… and with a face that is the single grandest thing that has ever appeared on my computer monitor. I just sent him an instant message. I thanked him for our date this morning and went into detail about desire and 15th century portraits of saints and projecting emotions and licking his butt and not the video screen, how deprived my senses were… I wonder if he’ll call the police?
While composing my instant-opus, TheMonkeyBear flashed by and enlightened me about a new kind of bacterial sharing. Apparently, some guys who don’t wear deodorant, when bumping into like-pitted fellows–he didn’t tell me how they recognize each other, but I bet it doesn’t have to do with sight–rub their underarms together, go along their merry way, and within a few hours, voila!, a new scent borne of the bacterial union.