Watch Your Hands, Buddy

by Rajul Punjabi

“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.