What it's all about.

I have had this feeling far before I saw or read "Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist" but I'll expand on it a bit here for public consumption: There is little greater in the world than holding hands with someone you care about. It is hands-down the one minor form of a PDA that I find endearing. Granted, I can't take it when people nuzzle up all close with each other and examine their hands together for hours on end as if they were the first people to ever think of interlocking their fingers with each other.

There is one particular instance that I find especially endearing, and that is when old people hold hands. I'm not talking old like me and my "not as young as I used to be" self, I'm not even talking fifties or sixties. I'm talking about seventy-plus, the old people who hold hands because it's all they know, the people who hold hands because that's what they've been doing since it was still a novel concept in its time. Back in the day, when hand holding was officially second base. It's incredibly endearing, even moreso than like when little kids hold hands. It melts my friggin' heart, and I believe that's a main contributor of why folks pass away shortly after their partners; because they don't have that hand to hold.

Trust me, this blog was just inspired by seeing just such an occasion on the street the other day. I am not going to turn this into a paean on how I have no one to hold my hand. I am also not going to gush about how I found someone who actually wants to hold my hand, because I haven't. Hell, I am not much of a hand holder in the first place - I am so warm blooded that things just turn into a clammy mess. I far prefer linking pinkies. But not in the dirty way.