Hope, Hugs, and Other Thoughts

The Start of a Pineapple

I awoke this morning with the lingering and if I’m honest tingling sensation of an amazing and sexy dream. As I lay there, I tried to remember every single juicy detail of the dream that had me feeling so alive, and slowly the full picture appeared. Wait! That couldn’t be right. There must be more to what made me feel so alive, invigorated, and almost goddess like. And yet, the memory felt correct. I dreamed that a guy told me I made him feel better, hugged me, and asked me if I felt better. No we were not laying in bed, naked, in a tangled web of sheets. We were bundled up, after walking our respective dogs, and simply had a moment of truth.

For whatever reason, I had started crying and he showed me kindness by holding me. Even now, writing these words I am crying (holy frick you could play a drinking game based on how many times I have cried writing blog posts this past year!). The impact of another human being caring about me, holding me, and then opening up themselves is… missing. Deep down, that is the intimacy I crave right now. A real connection. That bond. Isolation does crazy things to a person. In fact, it is forcing me to do a hard reset and I have fought it every step of the way!

Four or five years ago, I was out there chasing butterflies and that first touch. Looking for new, exciting, and mere moments that I hoped would turn into a variety of sexy and incredible adventures that I could share with my partner. And now, as that dream reminded me, I just want a meaningful hug. One that opens two people up to each other. A hug that bears the raw souls of the individuals. I know a moment like this cannot be forced, rushed, or even searched for. It will happen organically when I least expect it. But hot damn… for a dream about a hug to do what it did to me. It really puts everything about the here and now into perspective.

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In the last 48 hours, hope has been stripped away from me. Not in some malicious or ill intended way, but more subtle. I have been trying to find joy in the small things like an innocent flirtation with people I see at work (not co-workers to be clear) and whoosh… Covid has again slammed that door. Next up was online dating but I find it completely barren of any human who will chat with me in one sitting. It seems that 4 – 5 days is the new norm for response time? So that fun little outlet has turned into something I dread. Getting my hopes dashed day after day when I match with someone only to have the conversation dwindle away into nothingness.

And finally, the last straw, I realized that my intense and passionate personality may be what has so many people from my past choosing friendship rather than intimacy with me. Foolishly I created hope, that I could get a few things going with people from my past and kindle some new possibilities. But, as it turns out it wasn’t just bad timing. It was in fact, that the interest just wasn’t/isn’t there. In the last decade, I have been able to pursue anything that I wanted. The fact that I held, and that they held off means something. And well, I just didn’t want to see all these things at the same time.

So, when I went to sleep last night, my brain did the one thing it could. It showed me the most basic form of human intimacy, and the reality of what I am missing. Hope. It put all the things that I couldn’t process together. A touch rarely leads to anything more than just a hug, but maybe just maybe one in the future will absolutely rock me, and spark that passion. For now, I just have to live each day for the moment it is, knowing that it will all start when we can touch again.

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