This one might seem to be a bit silly, but for the last few years I've made my girlfriend's breakfast every day and she's packed my lunch.
She has a hard time getting up, so it helps her to have a fresh coffee and whatnot ready for her. She in turn makes my sandwich for lunch because even though I like eating it, I don't like touching the lunch meat.
So while we're doing the same amount of work, we're doing a job for each other that the other doesn't really enjoy. It also irrationality suggests tastes better, because it was made with the other person in mind, not as a chore we have to do for ourselves.
You’re still touching the lunchmeat. It’s touching you inside. All over. It’s rubbing against your tongue, teeth… the roof of your mouth. It massages its way to the back of your throat rubbing itself against every inch of your esophagus, until it finally reaches the inside of your stomach.
But it’s not done there. Your lunchmeat - the same thing you revile touching with your fingers - begins to lay against the walls of your stomach lining as it is slowly digested. Some of it may even make its way into your small intestine completely intact. It touches you all the way through.