HoldMyHand, an Epic Journey of Love Lost (and Found)

This is how it started. With five simple words I’ll never forget: I’m not doing that shit! I had simply reached out my hand, asking to follow her, promising to be lead, never falling behind (unless I needed a better camera angle). The rejection bit hard, like a bike chain on acid washed denim, tearing into my pant legs on a short trip to the deli.

And so, with a tear in my eye, I donned my imaginary fedora and went in search of someone who would love me for the man I will never be.

It didn’t take long for me to fall in love with this one. She was dark, cold, and strong – and she went down easy. I held on as long as I could, but like all good things in life, I swallowed her too quickly.

I thought a jaunt in the country might heal my wounded heart (and ego) and so off I went, quickly finding a blue-green beauty to touch my hot lips. She was a breeze on a hot summer afternoon and a rain storm on a dark night. She was sweet and delicious, and she was from outer space. But alas, all things must pass, and so with my head spinning I fell asleep wondering if love would be there in the morning.

In the morning she was gone, but I quickly found a new love, who while less intoxicating was invigorating all the same. At first she was bitter, but a splash of cream changed everything, and by the time we had seconds I was in love. Sadly, she grew tired of my frequent trips to the bathroom, and I was once again left to my own devices.

As I made my way back to the city, I decided a long stroll down the High Line was just what I needed to heal. But the sun was hot and with sweat on my neck (and everywhere else) I found the tall glass of water I had been looking for.

 

This time it was me who left. While satisfying and refreshing, I found him a bit boring after a few refills and decided I need something with a bit more flavor. So I hustled downtown for a game of minigolf with this blue beast, only to find that no one was impressed with my mad skills.

And so, once again, with my head hung down I made my way back to the bar where I knew I could always find a friend. I sat back with a smile, reached out my hand, and let out a sigh, knowing that some things just keep getting better. Like beer. When it’s hot out. And the bar is well air conditioned.

So, that was my weekend of love lost and love found. Of whisky drunk and Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters imbibed. So next time you reach out your hand looking for love, remember it’s not what’s on the outside that counts.

It’s simply about who feels good in your hand.

-Guy New York
June, 1015