Sweat Is Delicious

I am a man of many beverages. All kinds of water — filtered tap, spring, flavored or plain sparkling (as valets can tell you, my car is full of empty La Croix cans). Coffee and tea, lemonade and cranberry juice, soda flavors that range from Wild Cherry Pepsi to the high-end ginger ales. I will happily sip any liquor you serve me, most kinds of beer, White Claw, and, on special occasions, Smirnoff Ice. I sometimes joke that I burned off all my taste buds by eating pizza while it’s scalding hot; in fact, I believe I have a fine if unpretentious palate, able to discern and savor the subtlest notes of anything I care to drink.

And sometimes, you know what I’m really craving?

Human sweat.

Wait, don’t go, I’m serious: Sweat is a natural, delicious treat and widely available at that. It’s free. There’s no reason not to try it. And while, as MEL’s Ian Lecklitner reports, drinking sweat isn’t much of a survival tactic, it’s not bad for you, either: Because it’s almost entirely composed of water and salt, it’s fine to imbibe “in small quantities.” So says an expert!

Is it the salt component that I’m after? Quite possible. I seem to have inherited a natural sodium deficiency from my mom, which makes us both fiends for salty snacks. And if I can justify a lifetime of stuffing Doritos into my face, then sweat shouldn’t be a controversial substitute. Folks, it’s good.

The Japanese know what’s up: They’ve been chugging a Gatorade sports drink called “Sweat” since 1980. Come to think of it, the advertorial power of sweat should be enough to clue you in to its delectable character. How many commercials have enticed you with scantily-clad hot actors who positively gleam with sweat? Are we not supposed to want to lick every sweaty, glistening body in Britney Spears’ “I’m a Slave 4 U” video? Why are we associating sex and sweat if the latter isn’t meant to get in our mouths at some point? That would be a tragic waste.

Yeah, it might sound weird to say “I like the taste of sweat,” but when you specify whose sweat — let’s say Emily Ratajkowski’s — suddenly I’m not so crazy. You’d drink that sweat. You might even order a snifter of it at a fancy cocktail bar.

Don’t try to deny it — you’ll start sweating.

See, the sweat is never merely sweat. It derives from an individual source, like your precious bottles of Fiji or Evian, and its dominant notes are established by a mélange of unique factors: diet, pheromones and the type of sweat gland at work: eccrine, apocrine or apoeccrine. Each secretes different fluids, but all this perspiration amounts to what I think of as a signature “brine.” Lapping it up is no weirder than shooting a pickleback after a shot of whiskey — the juice the pickle came in is every bit as tasty as the pickle itself, a liquid form of the crunchy treat. By the same token, when you’re fucking on a hot day, working up a good sweat, you don’t suddenly stop using your tongue because your partner’s sweat is “gross.” You keep licking, dammit. 

Now, look, there are a bunch of anime/manga freaks out there who love to talk about drinking this or that character’s sweat, which of their waifus has the best-tasting sweat, etc. Don’t let that dissuade you from embarking on a sweat sommelier journey of your own. Nobody may claim a monopoly on sweat, just as furries can’t corner the market on body hair. Sweat is universal and basically unavoidable — so you may as well enjoy it. Like anything else in the sexual arena, it’s all about figuring out your preferences. Maybe it’s the garlicky armpits after they’ve had a hard workout; maybe it’s the musky hollow of their thigh when they’re taking a sticky nap during a heat wave. Or how about the little rivulet streaming out of their hair, down the side of their neck, as they sunbathe on the beach?

Every drop is precious, and no two are exactly the same.

You want my honest advice? Convert your bathroom into a sauna. Quarantine will end someday, and you’re going to want a fancy sweatbox to impress your first Tinder hookup. Before you know it, you’ll both have a healthy, glowing sheen — then it’s time to fool around. And if you manage to collect a few spare drops, then please send me a sample. Cheers.

---

Miles Klee

Miles Klee is MEL’s resident tank-top dirtbag, shitposter and meme expert. He’s also the author of the novel ‘Ivyland’ and a story collection, ‘True False.’