The Beatles Were onto Something

A bit over a month ago, I decided to put myself through a self-proclaimed romance detox. Problem is, I made the amateur mistake of not making a list of what that included and excluded. Ha! Yes, what to steer clear of, etc. Seems obvious, right? One item on list, then:

Blokes

Anyway, seems that this is difficult to do, unless you’re a devout nun in the northern reaches of Siberia.  Which, of course, I’m not.

It’s obviously not quite this simple and there are always things to keep in mind. The platonic factor is one, random people in the public domain, colleagues and work circumstances, the few blokes I share genetic material with and so forth.

And then enter the sage advice, stage left, that assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups. The assumption in this case being that all romance is dead and null and void, because honestly, it hurts when things blow up. Apparently, that’s inaccurate. Ends up you need to define what that means, and if left to debate this at a braai with a generous amount of wine on tap, it can get rather complicated. Thus I will now do what I apparently do best, and look it up in the dictionary. On the page in the embedded link, I found this definition, and I reckon it’s the one I was looking for:

Romance: A quality or feeling of mystery, excitement, and remoteness from everyday life: the romance of the sea

Nice, hey? Yum! Such wonderful, delicious fluff! And without that horrible heartbreak nonsense included.

Someone unexpectedly held my hand recently, for a brief moment, I don’t know why, and I was caught off guard so badly, I forgot to say what I was feeling. Perhaps “Thank you” would have been a good start. So I reverted to clown mode and well… Whatev’s. It was a damn fine moment up until then, like being in a soft wool cocoon, and for once I refused that my cynical self stick a bloody oar in as usual. The moment was like accupunture without the needles.

I slept very well that evening, thinking that sometimes we should really just hold hands more. Or hug more. Proper hugs, hugging the daylights out of people. I learned from the best, so I may as well share my skills! Or like on Friday evening when I was at the symphonic orchestra concert and dead tired after a long week, to the point that I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I just wanted to lean on my friend’s shoulder and put my arm through hers and doze off. But I doubt my snoring would have impressed the conductor, we were sitting in the front row. Rubbish, I should just have done it. She has a wonderful set of shoulders!

It reminds me of this little line in this here song: “And when I touch you I feel happy inside.” Next time you see me and I start humming this song, just brace yourself. Or run. Note to self. Romance detox or not, we should never entertain a human touch detox. That’s just madness.

 

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One thought on “The Beatles Were onto Something

  1. Pingback: Romance is dead! Long live Romance! | The Tangled Pretzel

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