My Sentiments Exactly
by Joy Monger
This is a repost from www.ShmittenKitten.com. Her dating blog is pretty freaking fantastic.
It’s always a crap shoot when you pump the hand soap bottle in his house. There are a few ways this could go:
- Worst case: It’s empty. Lovely. It’s like the fake turkey on the table in Arrested Development. Is this a prop? Am I on a film set? Does this toilet even work?
- Medium case: It has been injected with faucet water in an attempt to re-animate it to its once soapy glory. Texture-wise, it feels like washing up in a boxer’s spit bucket.Sorry, Dr. Frankenstein, but your efforts to transform this watery soap into actual soap literally fell flat. There is one bubble in my palm and it’s looking at me like it’s about to commit suicide. You literally burst this bubble’s bubble by giving him no bubble buddies to pal around with. Pathetic!
- Better case: It dispenses soap with respectable lathering properties. Dial or Dove liquid soaps fall into this category. His mom probably bought it for him at the dollar store. Fair enough.
- Best case: This soap is something that he went out of his way to purchase or maybe it was a present from a gay friend. It smells pleasant yet neutral, like a basil leaf or sweet water. The lather could be described as luxurious, even. My hands are soft and smell like I high-fived nature. Well done! If there was a survey card about your hand soap, I’d rate it highly and enthusiastically write “keep up the great work!” in the comment section.
Yeah. Not to get all Martha Stewart about it, but a great hand soap goes a long way.