Today I asked my best-friend for a hug and he thought it strange of me as I don’t usually like touching people. I actually often complain about anyone spontaneously hugging me, even friends. If we are not very close friends (meaning known each other for many many months and sharing our secrets) or having sex then don’t touch me beyond a handshake.
So no hugging, no kissing on the cheeks; just no invading my personal space. The only exception to this rule – being a party where Jamaican wining will be in-effect – but again only for the fast songs – no slow wining with strangers or people I barely know – that’s just weird.
You would also be correct to assume that my abhorrence of being touched stems from some childhood trauma but then there are these moments when I feel touch starved, when I become hungry for physical human contact – then a hug feels orgasmic to me. That simple pressing together of bodies.
It’s mystifying to me; feeling that slight change in temperature as I slowly lean into the atmosphere orbiting another human being. For me the air gets warmer the closer I get. Then as I slide my arms around their waist the first touch startles me – soft sometimes firm flesh pressed into my palm and my nerve endings tingle. The relay of tiny pleasurable bursts travel up my arms, to my chest and face.
Then the delicate odours of sweat, applied fragrances and laundry detergent rush into my nostrils and I inhale deeply – yes there it is – your scent. You smell like life – earthy, musky and ripe. Man or woman, child or infant – bright tantalising aromas, a frenzied dance of colours.
When my cheek is caressed by fabric or best of all, skin, I smile – my brain ignites a tiny charge. Right then, the hard tiny squeeze throws the unpinned grenade – BOOM!
My mind goes silent – nothingness. No past, no future, no black, no light – just quiet. Peace, gentleness, warmth and goodness.
For just a second, tiny insignificant heartbeats in time – everything is perfect.
Suddenly – someone releases. A jerk back into the loneliness that is my physical form – cut off from what was such a monumental occasion. Your hug.
Still the afterglow lingers – that sense of well-being stays for just a little while.
I am so grateful, thank you.