Hold up your right hand and focus on nothing more than your right hand and my left hand. Use as much of your imagination as possible, please, and however contrived and redundant some of this might seem, please, bear with me. Pretend that you are your right hand, and I am my left hand. Ignore your wrists, your forearms, your shoulders, everything but your right hand. Do you see my hand across the room? This is me sitting in my house, and there you are sitting in your house. As I get closer, this is me in my classroom, and this is you in your classroom. Now here I am sitting with you right here, right now in this room, just as you are. Do you notice anything? It’s not as profound or epic or mysterious as you might think, but contemplate for a second the obviousness of what I just said to you.

No matter where I am, and no matter where you are, there is always space. I am here, you are there, and in between is space. We can see each other or sometimes we don’t. We can be miles away, or a doorway away, but sometimes we just miss each other. We don’t even know the other is close. Maybe this is why we feel so lonely, whether or not we know it. Everyone feels lonely, and maybe it’s because we somehow know (consciously or unconsciously) that there is space between every single person in the world. However, notice what’s happening now. As our pinkies touch, this is you and I holding hands. Yes, we’re touching, but there’s still space between the rest of our bodies, and that ultimately, there is still space between us. There are clearly identified lines and spaces where I can dignify that “This is me” and “This is ______.” Now, as the rest of our fingers align, and our palms touch, this is maybe a hug, or even a kiss or an embrace. Ooooh, things are starting to feel strange, aren’t they? Again, there is still space between the middle of our palms, and some gaps between our fingers. I am still me, and you are still ______. But look now, imagine what’s happening. Focus, close your eyes even. As our fingers entwine, and close against each others hands so slowly and gently, the warmness of the other person’s hand warming yours. Foreign extremities wrapped around your own. This, my dear ______is probably what sex is like for most people.

For the first time in this contrite analogy, does it become difficult to immediately look and identify which part is me, and which part is ______? There is almost no visible space between the parts that are touching and wrapped inside and around each other. Maybe this is why sex becomes so important to people because whether or not they know it, they are consuming and merging with the person they are with. What do you feel? Do you feel anything? If you do, even if it’s small, it could be that you and I are merging, the space between us is finally gone, and we truly know how it feels to be a single being. This might be what love is, or not. If you don’t feel anything, you don’t have to tell me either way. Maybe it’s because things aren’t right between us, but I think I can say you at least feel something. Whether or not you and I may be “meant” for each other, the fact that two beings are impeding on one another’s space in a careful, graceful, and intimate way is enough to feel companionship. I can understand how people get so addicted to sex because not only does it feel good physically, but I don’t think sex is ever just sex. Whether or not the people know it, they are doing more than just fucking, or whatever. Just like most things, it’s temporary, and we strive to go back for more.

Let go of my hand.

After that brief bit of intimacy, in the end, you and I have to go back to our worlds, our homes, possibly seeing each other when only a few doorways away, or not. This is just how lives and the world works. We can’t be hedonistic and spend all of our time in intimacy because honestly we would get sick of it. We would either grow to hate it, or we wouldn’t feel the same each time it happened. We want to go back for more, and even though it’s possible, we must be mindful of the space between us. It’s essential. Ironic isn’t it? The same space that hurt us and made us cry and what eventually drew us together is the same thing we seek to separate ourselves with. Given, you and I will probably do our best to limit how much time there is that space inhibits us (whether it be standing side by side, or even just in the same room looking at our hands). This is important, and not just for friends, but couples and for people seeking to cultivate a relationship with each other.

If everything is so cyclical and temporary and it takes sex for us to truly feel that we are not alone, why do it? Because remember what just happened a minute or less ago. You were sitting in a room with me, and objectively, the only parts of our bodies that touched were our hands. What did you feel? Did you feel anything? If you do, or did, then that’s the answer to that question. You sat in a chair, and held my hand, you focused on nothing more and used nothing more than your imagination with only the idea that you were your hand and I was mine. But you felt something, didn’t you? It’s possible to feel like a conjoined soul even without sex being the method of choice. You don’t have sex with everyone, besides the obvious reasons and because of the “hassle” involved, to feel connected. What do you do with your friends? You focus on something, you being you, and your friends being your friends, and being in the moment together. You may not feel the same physically, unless you’re holding hands or hugging maybe. Maybe that’s what a “boyfriend” or a “girlfriend” is supposed to do, but let’s please ignore those labels. There’s always a person out there that you might not see, and in which space inhibits both of you. It’s easy to think there’s no one, I know that, I fucking know that, but bracket that contempt for a second. You may think that only because of the space, the space is what does that to you. I beg you to embrace it. One day that space will close and close and close, a body will be there, and you will touch and you will feel something. They might be a country away, an ocean might separate you, or maybe three feet and a coffee table will be what keeps you apart. Take solace in that possibility, and that what you felt today was real and substantial and intimate. 

Take my hand.