Sigh.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

I'm trying my hardest here to not get my hopes up, to not obsess, to not overthink and overplan and get caught up in the whole thing.  I'm trying not to let it consume everything, I'm trying not to plan my life around this thing.  But it's not working...

...because he held my hand.

Holding hands is pretty much my favourite thing in the world.  Above kisses, and hugs, and cuddling, and being in their arms, and having funny conversations and tickling other people...I simply want to hold hands.  In today's society, people can flirt, kiss, dance, grind, fuck, and break hearts in less than 12 hours.  We can do so many things without really meaning it.  And I'm not naive to think holding hands always means something, but...it kind of does.

There's a certain amount of intimacy in holding hands. Of offering a connection to someone that doesn't cross certain boundaries, that can simultaneously calm you down and make your heart skip all at once.  Holding hands is physical without being exploitative or lewd, it's being public without too much, it's being an extension of someone and letting yourself connect.

So yeah...he held my hand.

It was bad enough when he let me walk 8 blocks with my arm tucked into his.  It's not the same, but it was nice to know that he was steadying me and that he's considerate enough to not just ditch me or push me away or tense up and be awkward about it.  It was...natural. And nice.

So then when we were dancing, I just thought...that's fine.  We're both a bit drunk, this is what you do in a crowded bar that's groovin' all around you and bumpin' some fine 90's jams - you grind it out.  You dance, you attach your hips, you hold his arm while he holds you're waist.  My heart skipped a few beats when he did pull me into him and he put his cheek on top of my head and we just spun in a slow circle for a minute or so, but I can blow by that.  I'm sensible enough to offer it up as drunkenness, as wanting to feel like you're circled in someone's arms.  I even managed to calm it down and offer up rationale when he moved in front of me and grabbed my arms and wrapping them around him and pulled me up against his back, shimmying down my front and holding my hands and not even letting go to spin around and pull me into him again and that feeling I got that he just didn't want me to let go of him.

And the first time he grabbed my hands, I managed to move it all out of my head.  That it was part of the dancing, that it was part of the drunkenness, that it was just to keep us dancing together.  That was it.

But then he had to intertwine our fingers. And keep holding on, even when we stopped dancing.  And even when we would break apart or dance with our two other friends, he'd still come back to me and take my hand(s) again.  And he'd hold my hand as we walked through the bar, and he'd take my hand in his and interlace our fingers and hold it against his chest and smile down at me and my heart would explode.


I don't know what he meant by any of it, if there was anything there at all.  Maybe it was all him being drunk and he just does that.

But holding hands is one of my favourite things in the world.

And he held my hand.

1 comments:

Jessy Taylor April 18, 2011 at 9:06 AM  

this post made me smile. it's always the little things that just stuck in our minds and we can't let go of or something even figure out.

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I'm fairly obsessed with penguins, Peanuts (the comic), and the TV show Friends. Parentheses may or may not be (over)used in this blog, and books will pretty much be the only thing I ever talk about because they are my One True Love.

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