Knowing is in the Hand Holding
You know the lyrics to the song already but since this is a blog post and it has to start with something somewhat universal that most everyone can appreciate, I’m going to have to quote the lyrics. Sorry, it is just the convention of our times. Actually, if I remember correctly, it is the convention of ninth grade English essays, but I’m already finding unnecessary tangents to pursue.
Does he love me?
I wanna know!
How can I tell if he loves me so?(Is it in his eyes?)
Oh no! You need to see!
(Is it in his size?)
Oh no! You make believe!
If you wanna know
If he loves you so
It’s in his kiss!
(That’s where it is!)
You absolutely can tell an incredible amount about how a person feels about you, wants from you, thinks of you in the way that person kisses. Kissing is an incredible intimate act and can be more intimate than intercourse. Something about being face-to-face makes it difficult, even with eyes tightly closed, to deny who the person is in front of you.
For a rather simple physical act, kissing carries such complex body signals. The pressure of the kiss, the location of hands, the length of contact, the timing of open mouthed kissing, breathing, intensity, passion… oh my!
It is all about the kiss, isn’t it? That is why there is such a big deal about ‘the first kiss’ and whether you should kiss on the first date. Kissing is always seen as that first step down the slippery slope to more carnal acts. Yet to many, kissing is such a chaste experience, they cannot even imagine it being something to even fret about. It is just kissing. What is the worst case scenario in regards to an intense make out session? I am suppressing my urge to quote “Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me” here. You’re welcome.
All of this lead up will make what I’m about to talk about seem downright prudish. I don’t mean it to sound prudish, I’m merely trying to talk about the moment I sense chemistry with someone. How do I know what my feelings are? Nevermind the other person… I’ll never truly know what that other person is feeling. I can only know my feelings and sometimes figuring that out is hard. I have a great capacity to lie to myself about my feelings. I don’t think I’m unique in that regard. I see self-delusion daily. Sometimes it is the little lies we tell ourselves to keep us motivated through difficult times and sometimes they are the big lies we tell ourselves to avoid facing harsh truths. Knowing this about myself and knowing that I will at times claim something ‘good enough’ just so I can be done with the process and move on to the next step, I get cautious in regards to relationships. Do I really feel what I am feeling or do I just want to feel it so I can be done with the process at hand… in this case – dating? Of course my fear of eternal dating is tempered by my fear of settling for someone I don’t truly deeply passionately love. And for all that is good, I need that. I need that passion so I can go off and slay dragons, conquer nations, build Camelot. Cue the Camelot song… Hello? Anyone there? Dangit. Oh, right, this wasn’t supposed to be a musical version of my blog.
So, back to the topic, how do I know? It’s in the holding of the hands.
Quaint, I know. There is a lot going on for me in regards to hand holding. For me, it is usually the first real skin-to-skin contact I have with a date. How we hold hands tells me a lot about ‘us’ from my perspective. Are we both tentative? Did she spend thirty minutes giving me subtle clues she wanted me to take her hand before I ‘got the clue’? Does she grip my hand like I’m a child about to run into the street? Does she reciprocate gentle squeezes with her own in a silent unseen smile to each other? Does she understand the secret language of hand holding?
When walking will she swing her arms wildly, playfully, sharing with me her moments of joy, or does her arm fall dead from the shoulder as if my touch is enervating it? Do I immediately want my hand back? There’s the key. When I take her hand, do I long to be free of it, or do I never want to let it go?
True story. I went on nine dates with a woman before we kissed. I was so caught up on sitting with her in her apartment, holding her hand, touching her hand, wrist, and arm as we talked that I hadn’t even worked up to the idea of kissing until that point. Yes, at times I move with the grace and speed of a glacier, I realize that. She did not find it charming in the least. I don’t blame her. If the roles had been reversed I’d have been on frustrated camper. And no, that was not a reference to a pitched tent, get your mind out of the gutter.
Touch to me means so much because I am a guarded person. I have my hang-ups, but really, touching someone is electric and exciting. Even their hand exhilarates me because I am quite aware how they are touching me back. It is a emotional feedback loop based on mutual touching. I’m sure there is a scientific study done on this somewhere. I’m not here to discuss the science of it, just my reaction to it.
I also don’t want this to be all woo-woo pseudoscience, but please give me some latitude. There is energy in touch. When I hold someone’s hand, I can tell fairly quickly what the energy is. Call it chemistry, call it whatever. Bad energy makes me fidgety, eager to end the connection. Positive energy entices me, lulls me, calms me, and makes me lose track of time. I don’t know what to do with the touch of a stranger. Touch to me is a mutual thing and if the other person is just doing a job, I actually feel a bit grossed out. That is part of my dislike of getting my haircut. Few things feel so innocently good as fingers in my hair, but when the fingers belong to a person who cares not if it is enjoyable and is getting no enjoyment out of doing it, it feels wrong. There is no balance. The energy is flowing one way and even if I’m the recipient I don’t like it.
I was walking with a friend downtown one very late evening and we stumbled into a park near the bar we had just left. It was just us in the park and our level of inebriation meant we were probably a wee bit loud. As we walked I suddenly realized I was holding her hand. It felt so natural, so soft and delicate. I don’t recall who initiated it. That really didn’t matter. I felt so supported and comforted by her hand. No other intention was behind it other than care, mutual care, concern, and sharing a moment in a physical connection.
Look at two hands, fingers interlaced, linking two bodies together at that one junction. It is a tight bond made even tighter when both people decide to grip. I know I’m reading a bit too much into such a simple act but the history of humanity tends to do that. We put so much emphasis on physical acts and with good reason. Words evaporate, moments pass, but a touch communicates so much. For me, when it comes to the kiss, I already know.
Since I started with a quote from a song lyric, I’ll end with one as well. I guess this was sort of the musical blog post and I regret not putting in the Touch-A Touch-A, Touch Me song. (Not really.)
Oh, please, say to me
You’ll let me be your man
and please, say to meYou’ll let me hold your hand
Now let me hold your hand
I wanna hold your handAnd when I touch you I feel happy, inside
It’s such a feeling
That my love
I can’t hide
I can’t hide
I can’t hide
Photo courtesy of Mary R. Vogt / Morguefile.com and used under Creative Commons license
“It’s in His Kiss” lyrics by Rudy Clark
“I Want to Hold Your Hand” lyrics by Paul McCartney and John Lennon
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About Sean
Sean D. Francis is a technologist, writer, and geek. He podcasts, makes video, and dabbles in all the geeky genres including horror, sci-fi, and fantasy. View all posts by Sean → This entry was posted in Thoughts and tagged featured, relationships. Bookmark the permalink.← Universal Geek: Tom is My Friend (Again) | Universal Geek: Intelligence is Trending →
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Eric Martell
