It’s funny. When you’re growing up, watching your parents kiss or hold hands makes your stomach hurl. As someone who hates germs, you can barely stand being in the presence of someone who hasnt brushed their teeth. You recoil at the sight of mom and dad showing love before breakfast, you fear that Jennifer has cooties, and viscerally repel any notion of liking anyone whenever a friend teases you if you’d be sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g. You stared at people who don’t look “perfect, “and wonder how anybody could ever be with them because there still a quote work in progress “. And then you watch them tightly embrace their loved ones, and you realize that they were something to learn here, but you still don’t know what that is.
You remember how when your mom hugs you on a Saturday morning after waking up, she doesn’t smell like the perfume and hairspray you usually associate her with, but kinda like your old clothes in the hamper, mixed with a bit of sweat and other body odor. It somewhat humanizes people in your life that you hold sacred. Reminds you that they’re “regular people” too, and do “regular people things” like sleeping, holding hands, and kissing.