HUMOR

Love in the Time of Corona

What’s a people-lovin’ touchy-feely girl to do?

So we can’t shake hands. I get that. Mucho nasty germs, viri, bacterium, fronteerium, scum, slime, and boogers. So who wants to shake or touch hands anyway when ya don’t know where they been, right?

But now, we can’t hug. Hug? Really?!!

That’s how we touch hearts. And get a quick hold and squeeze. Hugs are emotionally nurturing and boost our immune system and endorphins. But they say we need about twelve a day to ensure this effect. Some of us are born huggers. Many of us are in hug withdrawal.

There’s a whole thing about being touch-deprived. Baby’s that aren’t held and touched can be developmentally delayed. That’s how vital it is.

And touch is healing as a cancer-infected rabbit study proved. The rabbits whose handlers touched and petted them lived a lot longer than the ones who weren’t touched.

But they don’t want us hugging either. In fact, they want us to practice social distancing. That means at least 4–6 feet away from each other. Like when we wait in lines…those long lines at the stores where we’re all stocking up on cases of toilet paper. We should be that far from the person in front of us.

Kind of like on the freeway. You learn in traffic school — ask me how I know — that you should stay well behind the car in front of you. In fact, you should be one car length for every ten miles per hour you are driving.

So if you’re going 80 mph, which I know you aren’t but it’s for example’s sake. If you’re going 80 mph, you need eight car lengths between you and the car in front of you.

I know what you’re thinking. But if I do that, other cars will cut in the gap. Yep, but they won’t cut you off, forcing you to slam on the breaks or swerve out of the way either into the next lane where there are other cars, or the concrete embankment dividing the directions of traffic. So, in other words, it could save your life.

That’s right. Social distancing can save our lives.

Because we can cough viri out six feet. And that’s an average. Think about your high power athletes, with strong diaphragm and abdominal muscles. And barrel-chested opera singers with same.

No, these folks can probably cough those microscopic viri double that. So when you see them coming, stay the heck twelve feet away.

I’m just saying. And trying to cheer myself up. It’s not working. So let me get on with my main point.

If we can’t shake or touch hands or hug, what’s a people lovin’ touchy-feely person to do? Well, I guess you can still fist bump. But I haven’t heard much about that one way or another.

Then there are elbows. Turn sideways and touch elbows.

My sister is a veterinarian. She touches the animals, her clients, wearing gloves. With the owners, she touches elbow. They have a newly evolving ritual.

For folks they know, they offer one elbow. For folks who are friends, they do first one then the other elbow. For folks who are good friends, they do first one, then the other, and then both elbows together at the same time! That’s like a bear hug with a cheek smooch. Only not.

But now when I think about it, this begs the question, where has your elbow been? And isn’t our elbows where they tell us to cough into? Sorry for ending that sentence with a preposition, but I wasn’t prepped on how else that might go.

So let’s cough into our elbows all day and then come home to our sweetie and touch them with it. Let’s share the products of a full day of coughing in one fell swoop, shall we?

Hmmm. Maybe we need to rethink that.

Backfield in motion

I did read of a couple, was it here on Medium? When they get home, they stand back to back and rub derrieres together. Cute, huh?

That only begs the question, where have they been sitting all day? At work? On a bus or train? In the doctor’s office?

I haven’t come across guidelines for couples. How much disinfecting must one do before being intimate? Showering together is good clean fun. So there’s that. Maybe that should be the new coming home ritual. Or a nice warm bubble bath.

Now that more of us are staying home longer…we can get more creative. Especially those of us with live-in lovers.

And those of us without, we can get more creative, too.

But before we touch ourselves, we still need to practice that good ole hand hygiene. So where we’ve been doesn’t infect where we are about to go.

I don’t know if it works that way, but I don’t want to take any chances. Or have to wear gloves. It could come to that. But I could probably not come to that if you get my drift.

I used to look down my nose at phone sex and that sort of thing. Now I can see where it at least would be safer than in person consorting.

Here’s a question.

Would it be possible to make love with no hands? That could lead to some interesting acrobatics. Or thrown out backs.

I think you’d need a yoga* certificate to try it. All others, please sign a hold harmless release. It would be tough to explain at the ER, and those beds are needed for the infected ones.

So, there you have it. More questions than solutions. But something else to think about while the drama unfolds.

All kidding aside, stay safe. Wash your hands as my buddy Erick says, all the damn day. Remember social distance in line and on the road. Be a courteous driver and shopper. Or better yet, shelter in place. AKA stay the heck home.

Take your vitamins and protect your immune system. Eat your veggies and call your mom. Especially if she’s in a skilled nursing lockdown. You will make her day. Till next time, Namaste.

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Marilyn Flower writes political humor and satire to delight socially and spiritually conscious folks. She’s a regular columnist for the prison newsletter, Freedom Anywhere, where she writes about faith and prayer. Five of her short plays have been produced in San Francisco. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times.