Despertar

snotcicle

More on human grossness. It never gets old.

Hugh was telling me and Andrea a story about a girl he slept with recently. When he went down on her, he said, he discovered she had a yeast infection. He persevered anyway, and had an upset stomach all the next day. He told us this story, in detail, over a dinner of pasta alfredo. Thanks, Hugh!

*

Thanks largely to my aforementioned neighbors (one of whom is building an entire storeroom's worth of Ikea furniture, one of whom just bought an identity-confused parakeet), and thanks in part to Justin's snoring, I was awake all night, swimming between the sheets, rearranging myself over and over in the crook of Justin's arm, thinking about things Guillermo del Toro said about Pan's Labyrinth.

I didn't mean to be staring at Justin, creepily or lovingly or in any way at all, but I caught myself doing it a lot. I never noticed this before, but I guess snoring causes the nostrils to dilate and contract, over and over. Watching a person sleep isn't romantic at all; it reduces him to a big pile of bodily mechanics. It sent my mind back to the day we trudged through the freezing cold and the crowds to see Obama, how, every time I looked over at Justin, I could see the condensation beading in his nose hairs. Little snotcicles determined to witness history.

I don't know how anyone ever falls in love with anyone else, considering we all have these disgusting bodies capable of such hideous things. Yeast infections, snotcicles, poop. And yet, and yet. I'm pretty sure I love Justin. Well, I know I do. I let him hog the Slanket last night. And I wasn't even grossed out to think of his skin cells crawling all over it, afterward.

How stupid am I.

*

I showed him Aaron's "Retard Sex" video, we giggled about it for a good twenty minutes. An hour later, during sex, he let loose with a spot-on, guttural, totally unprompted "Ohhhhhhhhh Billlllll," and I laughed so hard I got snot on his shoulder. So I guess we're even, again.