i want a hug. like, a real one. like, for a long time. i want one of those delicious beautiful five-minute hugs i used to get from Damien...ah yes . . . very long hugs . . . one of those things appreciated by surprisingly few. I remember with my ex (I'm finally getting used to saying that . . . I start saying "girlfriend", then back up and add "ex-" in front, then just throw my figurative hands up and rip off the "-girlfriend" . . .) where was I? oh yeah. I remember with my ex . . . that's where it all began, really, was with hugs. She gave me my first hug (and I can still remember it . . . down in her basement, after I'd revealed more of myself to her than I had with any person ever . . . talking about random inconsequential things, unable to simply say "I love you, and I want to be with you forever" . . . feeling myself sinking lower, knowing that I couldn't say that, and I think I said something like "it's just tough being alone" and suddenly her arms were around me. it took me at least five seconds (aeons) before I realized what was actually going on, and I don't think I could talk for about half a minute afterwards. Then all I could say was "thanks" . . .) which lasted maybe thirty seconds, and my second hug (maybe five minutes after the first . . . realizing that I could never be with her (she was going out with my best friend at the time) and feeling myself falling into the abyss again, just lying there in the dark feeling like I was about to cry. I asked her (asked? begged? I don't know what it was, really, except that I could barely speak and my voice was so unsteady I'm surprised she understood me) for another hug. and it pulled me out of the abyss . . . first time that had ever happened . . .) which lasted maybe thirty seconds also, and my third hug . . . after my best friend, knowing how much we wanted to be together, said that he wouldn't mind if we turned it into a triangle, and after we'd said yeah, maybe that would be nice, but it's just too much trouble, so we won't . . . and me and her chatting downstairs after he had to leave, after we'd finished playing Dead or Alive II, and I felt myself sinking down again and asked for another hug, and . . . we hugged, and I didn't let go, and she didn't let go, and half an hour later we realized that, ya know, hugging sitting up doesn't work so well, and half an hour later we realized that lying down on the couch got uncomfortable also, so we went upstairs and simply held each other on her bed for at least three hours, long after midnight. Which kind of set a standard . . . there is something wonderful about simply holding someone close and feeling them breathing and knowing that you both care.
Not sure what I was originally saying here anymore . . . was I reminiscing, or talking about long hugs, or . . . what was I saying?
All of those, I suppose. Sometimes I miss spending (not wasting - spending) half a day in someone's arms, just talking softly about inconsequentials, because the serious stuff . . .
. . . just doesn't matter.