Remember Sweaty Steve, he of the socially-crippling clammy-palmed hyperhidrosis? I’ve got a fantastic update for you, plus an equally fantastic shout-out we just received from a former super-perspirator. I offer both here with two caveats: (1) (spoiler!) finding a partner does not in itself equal success or happiness; in these cases, however, it was something these fellas both wanted and thought they could never have, and (2) as Wendy Shanker describes so eloquently in Are You My Guru?, while medical conditions may have psychological or psychosomatic components, that does not mean that all afflictions can be healed with some nice long walks and a change of attitude.
OK? First, from a fella named K., this spectacular portrait of HOPErhidrosis:
“I suffered the cranial version of this condition for about six years and let it turn me into an asexual recluse for most of my twenties, even leaving two jobs due to my supervisor’s apprehension over what impression it might give the people I interacted with (understandable, as I was a phlebotomist at the time and was told patients simply would not be comfortable having someone with sweat pouring down his face drawing their blood). Just about every decision I made in those years was influenced by the sweating more than any other factor. And I never found any correlation between the heavy sweating attacks and my activity level, temperature, liquid intake, etc. The only regular trigger was, the more social exposure, more sweat, but beyond that it would happen in any random setting, even walking alone on a cold night.