Memories of touch

Sometimes I think humans forget how important it is to actually touch another person, to hold and be held by them.  I think we take it for granted until it is not there and then it aches when we realize how much we miss it.  Touch is important.  Without it, babies die.  Children fail to thrive, and adults develop a loneliness that is indescribable.

As I was walking this morning, I felt enveloped in the dense fog that hung under the grey sky up here in the hills.  I thought about my job and my private life...and then I felt sadness.  I realized I had not been hugged or held since I was on the East Coast with Sir back in early Fall.  Three months with no physical contact, save a brief hug at the airport and shaking hands with coworkers.

This mornings fog reminded me fondly of mornings where my roommate would come into my room, pull back the covers and slide in.  He'd spoon up against me and wrap his muscled arms around me and just hold me against him...and like an excited child I'd lay there...my breath quick for a while, afraid to move or disturb him. Eventually I'd fall asleep, occasionally pushing back against him in bed.

I craved these moments.  Not because there was romance there (we both knew it was nothing of the sort), and not even because it was sexual (as we have never had sex).  But sometimes he would grind against me, or he'd wrestle me down on the bed and pin me on my back or my stomach and bite me, not hard...but just enough of a nip to make my loins ache.  Despite that ache, I knew it would not go further, so I ignored the ache and just simply enjoyed it.  On days when my ex was gone, I'd sometimes sneak into my roommate's room and perch on the edge of the bed...waiting for permission to come in.  I was so anxious he'd say no (and he sometimes did)...but sometimes he'd pull the covers back, I'd slide in not touching him...and wait for him to pull me to him.  It was intoxicating.

I still remember the scent of his skin in those mornings, that natural scent that smells like your skin was kissed by the sun and he'd squeeze me and for brief periods I felt energized and safe.  Sometimes after a bad day, or a horrible family encounter I'd hug him and he'd hug me back.  Not that hug random guys give each other with a slap on the back or even a church "side hug".  These were embraces that made me feel like everything would be okay.

Those days are gone now, but I miss them.  I feel a distance between us now, something I cannot put my finger on.  But some mornings I wake up and wish he would knock and come in for early morning snuggles.  He closes his door now, so I know his bed is off limits to me, a fragment of a fleeting moment in time when he felt comfortable sharing that need between two men.  Sometime it feels like a dream, like it was never real...but then I remember that feeling of connection and warmth without expectations or assumptions.  Just two men holding each other, holding the outside world back.