Uncategorized

I didn’t give the hug any thought ahead of time. It was instinctive. The woman was experiencing a difficult moment and I said something supportive. Tears welled up in her eyes and she said she was about to cry. So I reached out and gave her a hug.

I felt the warmth of her skin against one of my hands. My other hand felt her shoulder beneath her shirt. She pressed her body into mine and she squeezed me tightly as she hugged me back in appreciation. And then it was over. It took no more than a few seconds.

But I’ve been thinking about that hug for the last couple of hours.

The woman isn’t a close friend. I’ve been seeing her occasionally in business for the last few years and we’ve chatted casually about our personal lives. But nothing more than that. We’re the most casual of acquaintances, but we shared a nice hug in a way that was appropriate to the situation.

I’ve been thinking about that hug for the last couple of hours, though. It’s not because of any desire for her in particular. It simply made me incredibly conscious of how starved I’ve been for human touch.

Keep Reading

I don’t know how to say goodbye to you
I’m not good at things that I don’t want to do
— Sam Phillips, “I Don’t Know How to Say Goodbye to You”

I have no regret about any of the times in my life when I’ve fallen in love. Each woman who I’ve loved has meant something to me at that time in my life — and for reasons that were about her alone — so I cherish and honor each woman in her own way.

But I do regret how some of these loves have ended. It’s not so much that I regret things I did that were damaging or hurtful to others, but rather that I have a history of holding onto love that needs to be allowed to die.

I know how to love in ways that are deep and honest and healthy. What I don’t know how to do is to walk away from my feelings for a woman when it’s no longer healthy to love her. I’m never sure where the line is between loving in a steadfast way and holding onto something which is already dead.

And all this is wrapped up in childhood trauma about the mother who abandoned me.

Keep Reading

It’s always fascinating when people try to guess what I do for a living. It happened again Saturday afternoon when I was sitting with three young women. Two of them work at the restaurant where we were sitting and a third just happened to be there.

“I’m not sure what you do, but I’m certain you’re rich,” one of the women said. “You carry yourself like a rich person — like you’re totally confident and sure of yourself. My uncle is chief operating officer of a bank and you have that same sort of air about you that he does.”

I smiled to myself. Rich? Bank executive? How in the world had she come up with that? For me?

Another of the women had seen some of my photographs before, so she said she assumed I’m a professional photographer. The third one had never met me until today. She said I must be either a lawyer or a university professor.

After they had made their guesses, I first told them — as I often do — that I haven’t decided what I’m going to do when I grow up. They laughed. Then I was more serious.

I told them that I play with ideas. That’s what I do. Everything else I do with my life — even the parts I’m paid for now — are just trivia. The answer wasn’t what they expected, but it was the most accurate answer I could give.

I play with ideas. That’s what I do. That’s who I am. I just haven’t figured out how to get paid for it yet.

Keep Reading