Soft to the Touch

Photo Credit: Joshua Anderson

So last week, we sat next to each other.

Bodies stiff and tense. Neither of us looking at each other. Just straight ahead, as if we were waiting for a pop quiz, or for someone to catch us.

This of course, is my own play by play. Biased as usual.

And then our hands accidentally touched.

Yes, this was pretty much out of a Jane Austen novel.

He could be my Darcy.

Wouldn't that just be perfect and romantic.

No.

No it would not.

But what urks me the most, is that his hand wasn't harsh or wasn't furry like a man-wolf. Instead, his hand was soft and unassuming.

Lame.

One more reason why I can't be trusted to be in a relationship at this stage of the game. I'm basing my decision on hand softness. What.

I don't even think I like him, but simply knowing that I am on singleness vow, brings out the fiesty-ness in me. Dumb.

I'm sure I'll forget about this by October.

And then, at that point, I'll simply be counting down until Dec. 31st.

Wisdom's Knocking:

"The smallest act of kindness is worth more than the grandest intention."

-Oscar Wilde