Watch Your Hands, Buddy

Watch Your Hands, Buddy

Something odd happened last week when I went out with the Euro-cutie I met at speed dating.

Let me paint a picture for you. It was one of those tropical June nights I lust for – warm enough to sashay around in a skimpy American Apparel dress (not the skin tight tube ones though; that's too much exposure for a first date). We'd been sitting at this Jazz lounge just a few blocks from my apartment since 8 pm, and at 11, our lively conversation still hadn't died down. I had to call it a night though because of an impending deadline so we split the check and headed out.

Steady despite the three martinis I slurped down, I ambled along the sidewalk with him for a few seconds, aimlessly staring into the velvety, starless (good ol' city pollution) sky. Then I felt something touch my hand. Turns out, he had grabbed it. And was now holding it, pulling me just a little closer in the process.

"So you're into the whole hand holding thing?" I asked, smirking a bit.

"I don't know. But it's kind of nice, don't you think?" He grinned, his accent in full gear. Any type of British accent usually makes me nauseous (sorry, 007), but it really wasn't so bad tonight.

"I guess." I replied, chagrined at this cultural phenomenon. It was the first date and he was holding my hand. It was weird. Mostly because it felt kind of natural.

The last guy I dated was really not into the whole PDA thing. In turn, I kind of lost the taste for it. And now that this dude had come along and held my hand, I felt like Samantha in that episode of SATC. Exposed and slightly violated in a good way, like when you're making out with a guy and his hands roam down the southern hemisphere a.k.a. Bootyland.

Point being, I forgot that hand holding, like (my whole rant on) hugs, can be considered a very intimate thing. It might sound crazy but it's true for some people, myself included.

As we walked past the fountain on the way to my building, I pulled away to click my buzzing phone off. And sure enough, a few seconds later, there it was again. His hand and mine. Cuddled.

The rest was just the cliché rest of a pleasant first date. Not sure yet if I'll see him again, but the night got me thinking about romance and if it had gone extinct for me. I date, but I haven't gotten flowers from a man in quite a while, hadn't watched fireworks with a man since 2004, etc. etc.

Can dating exist without old-fashioned romance? Not for me, it can't. I want to reclaim it. It might not be flowers or fireworks, but I sure as hell want something. So Denise and my Summer Fling Contest just got a little more challenging on my end. As for the hand holding? I don't know if I can get on board just yet, but the dude definitely got an A+ for effort.