Germs. I’ve always been a very… aware person. Even as a kid. Someone would walk past me, I’d hold my breath and wash my hands incessantly. Presently, I wash my hands before I eat anything, I wipe down door knobs in my own home, sanitize light switches and remotes, keep sanitizer in my car and hold my breath if someone walks by me too closely. I’m not proud, just honest.
Have you ever gone on a date with someone, only to realize they weren’t then most sanitary person? They smelt good, they looked clean and tidy, they had a stable job and nice clothes. You get invited over for a nice dinner and notice their home is organized and clean. But wait! Oh, dear god! They don’t have soap in the kitchen. And yes, this particular night they decide to cook raw chicken and steak.
They pull the raw pieces of meat from their containers and place them on a roasting platter, only to merely drizzle some cold water over their contaminated fingers, to follow up with drying their hands on a kitchen towel. Then, (yes, there is indeed more), they grab the cookie sheet from the oven, take a piece of perfectly roasted asparagus into their hand and try to hand-feed you. What do you do? Scream? Cry? Run away? All of the above? It’s a tough pill to swallow (not as much as the asparagus though). Maybe this man just wasn’t taught? Maybe he just ran out of soap and moved the dispenser into the other room to fill it? Maybe he’s just not the type to ever wash his hands before eating and has no earthly idea that that my good sir, is just not sanitary.
The reason…while semi important, didn’t really matter as I was still captive in this dramatic scenario. You may be wondering, what did little, germophobe me do? How did I get out of this dangerous sequence of events? I have no idea. I stared at this piece of raw chicken juice covered asparagus being dangled in front my mouth. I stared at it for far too long undoubtedly. And then, me being the “little people pleaser, too nice girl, don’t hurt anyone’s feelings” type that I am, opened wide, closed my eyes tightly, and allowed this germ covered vegetable to be placed upon my tongue. I chewed. I chewed until he looked away, I chewed until I realized my eyes had fearful tears in them, I chewed, because I’m too nice.
Alas, this relationship did not continue. He was a nice man, a tall man, a handsome man. He did have soap in the bathroom, (thank god) and the kitchen soap absence wasn’t the actual reason things didn’t progress. But it was the reason I didn’t ever want him to cook for me again. Guy says to me, “Would you like to eat out tonight or cook something?” Nodding rapidly, I say, “Yes, definitely in the mood to go out.” And that’s the story of how I survived raw, chicken juice covered asparagus. If you go to someone’s home, bring soap, bring sanitizer, bring a garbage bag, but most of all, bring your dignity. Say no to raw juice covered food items (unless that’s your thing).
