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August 19, 2016

The inner monologue of a sweaty man giving you a hug.

Can you believe this weather? Uuuugggghhhh, SO gross am I right? Haha.

Anyway, wow! It’s great to see you! Love getting together with friends even though that means getting out of the air conditioning and wading my way through this damp humidity.

I’m going to start leaning in for a hug now.

SO sorry I’m all sweaty. Haha.

I’m about to really get you wet with my sweat. When I hug you. I’m leaning in slowly now and you can practically hear the heat and sweat sizzle off the moist skin of my exposed shoulders. Inside the 3 inch aura of stifling humidity directly surrounding my soaking wet skin. The deepest reaches of the Amazon rain forest have nothing on the second before I make contact with you for my big sloppy summer time hug.

I’m an inch away from full contact now. So exciting!

SO sorry! Haha.

Here comes my wet-ass shirt! Well, technically it’s a tank top, but guess what? It’s gray! The signed confession of summertime sweat hogs. There are huge blotches of varying soaked wetness all across my belly and damp waning moons of darkness underlining my armpits. Covering my “backpack zone” behind me and a heart shaped drip factory from my spine and lower back haunches onto my “ass crack zone” below that. I wore the gray shirt so that you would know EXACTLY how wet—with salty body water–I am when I lean in (while apologizing loudly and profusely let me remind you!) for a giant bear-who’s-just-been-fishing-in-saltwater-type of hug.

And just like that we’re touching–or should I say SLIP-SLIDIN’ against—each other!

I’m just SO sorry, I’m all sweaty. And now we’re actually hugging. Haha.

First your wrist grazes and slips past my exposed shoulder on its way to the broad morass of sweat expanding across my back. From there a wave of warm goo passes from my cotton to your cotton, the vehicle of exchange for our considerable merging flesh rivers.

*Squeeze* (I’m squeezing). A few more squeezes. *Squish* (We’re squishing).

*Sorry* (I’m whispering). *Sorry I’m SO sweaty* *Haha*

I inhabit our shared humidity in waves—waves of heat, waves of insecurity, waves of helpless shared humanity–as I hold you tight. "We’re in this together” I can’t help but think. “This is fine, haha. I’m sorry, haha, SO sorry, but it’s OK if I sweat and hug…right?”

“Please, haha. It’s OK,” you say, “Haha, I’m sweaty too.”

We unsuction our sticky luke warmth. We are inside now, after all, air conditioned.

The grim part of this is over.

Now we share.

SO sorry.

This is why we hug.