Breadcrumb #550
EILEEN RAMOS
When you hold someone’s hand...
How do you know when to let go?
And is it okay to open your eyes once you kiss, or do we have to close them like on TV?
Intimacy is a foreign concept to me. I never allowed myself to get close out of fear it’ll hurt somehow. Not physically, but emotionally:
What if when they caress my face, I feel nothing at all?
A tender gesture that can’t move me. I’d be as rock still as my stoic mother. She never cuddled or even sing Happy Birthday to me. A firm handshake and a $20 dollar bill is all I’d receive.
Not even a greeting card.
But she raised and guided me in her own way. I can’t fault her for trying her best. Still, I guess it marked me somehow because I have no idea what love looks like. Outside of a full fridge, airport pickups, and nightly rosary prayers for our family’s well-being.
“Still, I guess it marked me somehow because I have no idea what love looks like.”
What does love look like when physical touch is involved? How will I know if I’m doing it correctly? If they moan, that’s a good thing, right?
I never kissed anyone before and I’m already in my 20s.
Am I such an ugly girl?
Sometimes I wish I had the bravery to just order a female escort. She’d be taller than me, gentle, and have a sweet smile. We wouldn’t have sex, no, I’d be too scared to try that.
But we’d go on dates, like walks in Central Park or browsing a used bookstore. She’d read me Rumi’s love poetry and we’ll see if I blush from her delivery. We’d spoon feed each other our favorite little custards and pastries. Ube cake from me and tiramisu from her. We’d gradually work on hugging, holding hands, and consoling backs. It’ll be a safe way to try out intimacy, To finally experience proximity.
Close enough to inhale her strawberry breath. To observe the freckles that dance across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. To see the true tinted color of her eyes and my own reflection in her pupils.
I get a little anxious thinking about it.
But maybe that’s me growing. Maybe I should ring up the escort service today and set up an appointment. I’ve even browsed through different sites to figure out what kind of woman I’d choose. Someone who doesn’t even remotely look like my mother.
I just want to say that I tried. I don’t want my deathbed regret decades or months from now to be how I never caressed another’s hand. I may not feel a spark with her, the escort, but I’ve already given up on finding a deep connection with another.
But who knows? Maybe I give up too easily. Anyone could be waiting for me on the other side of the door, just hoping I’d try for them.
...Now I’m even more nervous.