Intimacy in Mundanity
March 24th, 2025
Photo: Danielle Bellamy
Writer: Violeta Neuman
Editor: Lexie Meltzer
Maybe it's just this – being seen, being known, in the most ordinary, the moments no one would think to notice.
Real intimacy comes from knowing the things that are only uncovered through the sharing of mundanity — of monotony. I have always thought running errands was one of the most intimate forms of bonding. I reveal myself to you with what kind of milk I buy and how I tell if a fruit is ripe. You helped me pick out what birthday card I should get, and I helped you choose what new water bottle to buy. We linger in the aisles, making jokes, finding out we use the same face wash, and debating whether to stop for coffee after this. These errands, tasks that should be mundane, start telling the story of who you are. It's a small unraveling of unspoken confessions, the quiet recognitions we make about one another. Noticing these details about someone feels like a genuine act of care–like learning your order at a restaurant without asking. It’s the every day knowing, the kind that happens quietly, that reveals our most vulnerable selves.
I don’t remember the last time I ran an errand by myself. With one simple text, “Want to go to Trader Joe's with me?”, an entire plan gets created. Running errands with friends is the true measurement of appreciation – it's just like life, but with another person there, you just join someone's life trajectory for a while. I believe college is the peak time to form these relationships and find these bonds. We are all in such an in-between moment in our lives, not fully settled but not fully lost, where these routines are so sacred. It’s how we turn a short trip to Trader Joe’s into an excursion to Menchies and Target. We stroll down the aisle knowing we have no money to buy anything else but just love to keep the moment going. We learn each other’s favorite snacks, whether they use self-checkout, and how they choose what ice cream to order. We share a basket, unable to tell whose items are whose, a quiet togetherness found in the smallest most ordinary details. The overflowing and intermingling basket is my proof of the fact it’s the mundane intimacy that makes it feel real.
Once the day winds down and the bags are unpacked, we realize it’s never really about what we bought. It's about the small conversations that filled the aisles – how we ranted about our exams, shared a funny memory, or helped decide what to get for dinner. You see someone not in grand gestures, but in the way they sigh at the long checkout line or unknowingly hum to the grocery store music. There is no performance, no social pressures – just ordinary life, shared. So maybe that’s intimacy: the quiet comfort of being known in the smallest moments. It’s not always about the crafted grand gestures – it’s in the shared silence, the ease of existing side by side. Maybe love doesn’t always have to be loud. Maybe it's just this – being seen, being known, in the most ordinary, the moments no one would think to notice.
