one of my earliest gay memories is of waxing poetic to a girl about her plump “porcelain doll hands” while she admired mine during recess
I don’t even remember who she was or if we were friends, just that I was fascinated by her beautiful hands and the soft cushioned dimples of her knuckles—so different from my own bony spider-fingers
thinking about hands again. I would have made a great Athenian sculptor. I had too much to drink after dinner but there is much to be said for the virtues of a gently-dimpled knuckle or the soft crease of a bent wrist. of the pre-dawn horizon where the pale skin of the underside of a palm meets the dark skin of the top of the hand. of the gibbous-moon of the nail. the swell of the thumb.
I’ve known so many women with hands like this who’ve spoken so poorly of them. It’s always broken my heart that I could give them nothing more than bland and unconvincing reassurances without crossing the line into impropriety. How do you tell someone that the shallow little divots above their fingers remind you of impressions left in marble from the friction of innumerable kisses?
I can think of approximately ten reasons, give or take a few.
somebody tagged this #spock
As someone who has always hated her chubby hands, this felt like a love letter
i love being bi happy pride to all the bi ppl out there . bi guys . bi girls . bi ppl who identify anywhere on the gender spectrum . bi ppl who have only dated the same sex. bi ppl who have only dated the other sex. t4t bi ppl. bi ppl who are asexual . bi ppl who are aromantic. bi ppl struggling with their gender identity. bi ppl who don’t feel safe enough to come out the closet. young bi ppl. old bi ppl. bi ppl who came out later in life . bi ppl that aren’t quite sure but this label feels good right now . bi ppl that feel misrepresented by bi media. bi ppl who love bi media. bisexuals with blue hair and pronouns. bi ppl everywhere . love u guys .
Public transportation is humbling, by which I don’t mean there’s anything lesser about it, but that it reminds you in the best possible way that you’re not the main character of the universe. Even in a world class public transportation system you’re occasionally going to encounter people begging, crying babies, people talking loudly or emoting, people wearing outfits you may consider weird, body odor, delays and inconveniences. I’m not saying you need to put up with straight up harassment or anything like that, but you need to accept that the world exists outside of you. If your entire world is your workplace, your car and your nuclear family, that is going to impact your politics and your perspective. It’s no wonder so much of the US is designed to this exact end, and how so many suburban Americans who value comfort and convenience over all else are losing their damn minds. The US is an international embarrassment when it comes to transit, but even in sophisticated networks you still have to share a space with other human beings and you need to act like an adult about it.
