I’m back at Good Karma, my new Favorite Coffee Shop, enjoying (or rather admiring) my new Favorite Source of Caffeine (Karma’s mocha lattes are just too pretty to drink!) and having crossed through Temple’s campus on the bus home from Germantown, I find myself rather preoccupied by the subject of PDAs.
Public Displays of Affection are as ubiquitous as hoodies and Nalgene bottles American college campus (and, if my two and a half years in the UK are of any indication, PDAs are ubiquitous everywhere). That’s not to say that I’m in any position to judge; I certainly engaged in my fair share of collegiate canoodling, but I would like to offer (in lieu of My Single Male Friend Friday) a few thoughts on the subject.
In this day and age, it seems that hand holding is the real sign of commitment.
Anyone can kiss. Anyone can have sex. But holding hands? In the broad daylight? Fully clothed and sober? That’s the real test.
I can’t remember the last time I held hands.
According to my spreadsheet, I’ve gone out with 25 men since August. I’ve kissed God-only-knows how many of them and I’ve… well, actually, I haven’t really… never mind. The point I’m trying to make is that I’ve been associating with my fair share of men—more than my fair share, actually— but I’ve only engaged in public displays of affection with three or four of them.
And by “public displays of affection” I’m not even talking about making out (finding myself in the post-college, post-youth-hostel phase of my life, I’m trying to be better about that these days…). I’m talking about holding hands. Plain and simple.
Friends with benefits don’t hold hands, and casual lovers don’t hold hands (at least not that I’m aware of; having never had a “casual lover” I can’t be certain but if I do conduct any further research into this rather delicate subject area, I’ll be sure to let you know).
This is because holding hands is an announcement: I like this girl. And I am with her. And we are holding hands, so back off!
(Either that or “I do not like this girl. But she is very drunk so I might get lucky…”)
As such, I’d argue that holding hands is way more intimate than any of the seemingly more intimate behaviors in which we engage. Call me crazy (or perhaps just desensitized after 25 first dates?) but at the end of the day, all I want—all I really want—is someone to hold my hand.
How about you?