Kristen Frier

Content Manager

dawdleonline@gmail.com

The Dangers of Double Dipping

Why even bother reading this? It’s icky. Just stop doing it.

(pxhere)

Double dipping is the scourge of any dinner party. It is a prime example of how the actions of one can harm the many, in this case by tainting the guac or ranch with your bacterial mouth fluid.

We are in a pandemic, and you are smart enough to know that having a dinner party with 30 of your closest friends may not be optimal right this second, but even members of your bubble shouldn’t have to lick your tongue by proxy because you decided to drool all over a baby carrot making it uncomfortably wet and slimy, then you chose to put that shit BACK INTO THE RANCH because you have no respect for others or your self.

Even if you are only hanging out with members of your household who are exposed to all your bodily functions through indirect contact, and/or significant others whose mouth germs you already basically share, still just like… don’t double dip please. Stop kissing too honestly it’s not better. Would you share a toothbrush and mix your plaque with another person’s plaque to create a sticky bacterial stew on the bristles to be consumed 2-3 times a day? No. You wouldn’t.

With COVID-19 numbers skyrocketing, double dipping is just plain dangerous now too. You could be an asymptomatic carrier of the virus and could get your pals sick because you needed a little bit more favourable of a ranch to baby carrot ratio. Just eat the second half of the carrot plain.

I feel I should clarify that I myself have fallen a victim to the temptations of double dipping. My roommates and I would share drinks, snacks and smokeables, thus unintentionally swapping spit. Sometimes you’re going to want a sip of someone else’s drink. Sometimes kissing might happen if you have a lucky person in your life to play tonsil hockey with. It’s okay, we’ve all been there, but for right now — just right this second — do your best to keep your bodily fluids to yourself.

It’s better than carrying around the soul crushing guilt of having the people you love become ill because some virus cells wanted to take a wet and gushy cruise in your salivary glands only to disappear in the unknown bermuda-triangle-like zone of hummus that you dipped your whole tongue into which transfers them into your pals ignorant and vulnerable orifices without warning.

Double dipping: It’s just not a chill thing to do.